WPOEH 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


OF* 


Deceived 
Accessions  No. 


OKLAHOMA 


AND 


OTHER  POEMS 


BY 

FREEMAN  E.  MILLER,  A.  M., 

PROFESSOR   OF    ENGLISH    LANGUAGE  AND   LITERATURE   IN  THE 

AGRICULTURAL  AND  MECHANICAL  COLLEGE  OF 

OKLAHOMA  TERRITORY. 


BUFFALO 

CHARLES  WELLS  MOULTON 
i8< 


COPYRIGHT,  1895, 
BY  FREEMAN  E.  MILLER,  A.  M. 


PRINTED  BY 

CHARLES  WELLS  MOULTON, 
BUFFALO.  N.  Y. 


TO 
JAMES   WHITCOMB  RILEY, 

IN  AFF.ECTIONA  TE 
MEMOR  Y  OF  O  TffJKR  DA  YS. 


Our  dearest  joys  forever  flow 
From  fountains  of  the  Long  Ago, 
That  from  the  heights  of  pleasures  past 
Flood  all  the  present  valleys  vast. 
And  with  eternal  glees  provide 
The  future' s  endless  ocean  tide. 


To  ope  each  cage  where  a  heartless  age 
Hath  chained  the  birds  of  singing, 

Till  Love's  own  glee  that  is  fond  and  free 
Shall  laugh  ivhere  they  are  winging, — 

Such  is  my  wish.     '  Tis  true,  hold  I, 

That  so  Jigs,  like  birds,  in  bondage  die. 


CONTENTS. 

OKLAHOMA  9 

THE  RACE  FOR  HOMES 15 

AT  PERRY,  SEE>TEMBER  16,   1893 19 

"SING  ME  A  SONG,  O  WIND." 21 

A  CHRISTMAS  CAROI 24 

YEARS  THAT  ARE  TO  BE 26 

IF  WE  DON'T  OR  IF  WE  Do 28 

DEAR  SONGS  OF  MY  COUNTRY 3° 

JULY  FOURTH     33 

"O,  GENTLE  SHADES  OF  QUIET  WOODS."    ...  35 

LOVE 37 

WINTERS  ON  THE  FARM 39 

"  O,  WEAK  AND  WEARY  WORLD." 41 

Ex  ANIMA 43 

"  Lo,  ALL  THE  AGE  is  RANK  WITH  WRONG."  .  45 

"LovE,  THOU  GAYEST  FANCY- WEAVER."     ...  47 

THE  FARMER - 49 

"NATURE  HAS  A  THOUSAND  CHOIRS." 51 

THE  WORKINGMAN 53 

GIVING  AND  FORGIVING 55 

"O,  SACRED  SOULS  THAT  GRANDLY  SING."  .   .  57 

CHRISTMAS  TIME 59 

TRUEST  HEROES  ARE  UNKNOWN 61 

IF  WE  BUT  KNEW 62 

HOPE 64 

DESPONENCY 66 

IF  LOVE  WERE  KING 68 

"SING  ME  THE  OLD  SONGS,  MOTHER."    ....  69 


vi  Contents. 

Two  LIVES 71 

"AWAY,  AWAY,  FROM  THE  SULTRY  WAYS."    .   .  72 

SPINSTERHOOD 74 

"  SWEET  FAIRIES  FROM  THE  ISLES  OF  SONG."  .  75 

STANZAS 77 

"MAKE  THE  MOST  OF  THIS  LIFE." 78 

"THE  SONGS  THAT  MOTHER  USED  To  SING."  .  80 

"  QUAFF  THE  GLASS,  THE  WINE  is  RED."    ...  81 

GOOD-NIGHT 83 

LIVE  LIFE  WITH  LOVE 84 

DISCONTENT 86 

STANZAS 87 

THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD 89 

MY  SHADOW  AND  I 90 

IN  THE  VALES 91 

THE  WILLOW 92 

AT  THE  MILL 94 

SHADOW  AND  SHINE 95 

THE  GROWTH  OF  SONG 96 

SPRING  AND  Music 97 

COMPENSATION 98 

MY  MOLLIE,  O 100 

SING  NOT  OF  BEAUTY 101 

AT  EVENTIDE 102 

WHEN  CHRISTMAS  COMES 103 

WHEN  THOU  ART  NEAR 104 

HE  SLEEPS  AT  LAST 105 

WHEN  FORTUNES  FROWN 106 

WHEN  WE  SHALL  MEET 107 

SWEET  EYES  OF  BLUE 108 

HAD  WE  NOT  MET 109 

A  SONNET no 

OKLAHOMA. — A  SONNET in 

ESTRANGED  112 


Contents.  vii 

RECONCILED 113 

THE  DYING  HERO 114 

SONNET 115 

GREATNESS  LIVES  APART 116 

POEMS 117 

SINGER  AND  SONG 118 

To  ONE  WHO  PLEDGED  HER  FRIENDSHIP   ...  119 

THE  BANKS  o'  TURKEY  RUN 119 


OKLAHOMA. 

OKLAHOMA  !     Oklahoma  ! 
Land,  O,  land  of  the  Fair  God, 
Land  where  ancient,  savage  races 
Through  barbarian  ages  trod! 

Through  thy  story  fancy  traces 
Facts  above  what  fictions  say, 

Where  the  world  with  haste  advances,- 
Born  are  nations  in  a  day  ! 

Where  the  wigwam  stood  so  lonely, 
Lordly  cities  rise  in  might; 

Where  spread  desert  wildness  only, 
Fertile  farms  and  homes  delight. 

Thou  hast  summoned  to  thy  bosom 
From  the  ends  of  all  the  earth, 

All  the  youngest,  strongest,  bravest, 
Full  of  will  and  wondrous  worth. 

O'er  thy  valleys  grow  the  blossoms 
Culled  from  earth's  remotest  sod; 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
Land,  O,  Land  of  the  Fair  God  ! 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
There  is  music  in  thy  name, 

There  is  gladness  in  thy  glory, 
There  is  fondness  in  thy  fame  ! 


io  Oklahoma. 

In  the  wonders  of  thy  story 
Shines  the  sheen  of  noble  deed, 

Brighter  than  the  glare  of  battle 
Where  the  warriors  toil  and  bleed; 

Ruling  with  immortal  forces, 
There  is  found  the  king  of  might, 

Over  all  thy  great  resources 
By  the  strength  of  truth  and  right. 

With  thy  happy  sons  and  daughters, 
Live  the  virtues  fair  and  pure, 

And  the  better  angels  guiding 
Keep  their  hearts  and  souls  secure. 

There  are  treasures  in  thy  valleys, 
There  are  treasures  in  thy  hills; 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
How  thy  name  my  bosom  thrills  ! 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
Child  of  law  and  liberty, 

Thou  art  always  true  and  tender, 
Thou  art  ever  dear  to  me  ! 

I  will  always  praises  render 
To  the  grandeur  of  thy  worth, 

For  the  fortunes  all  presided 
At  the  moment  of  thy  birth. 

Pleasures  in  their  pure  completeness 
O'er  thy  pleasant  prairies  shine, 

And  the  raptures  run  with  fleetness 
Through  the  happy  vales  of  thine. 


Oklahoma.  1 1 

Thou  art  empress  of  the  angels, 
Thou  art  queen  of  all  the  gods, 

And  the  happiness  of  heaven 
O'er  thy  laughing  valleys  nods. 

I  will  always  crown  with  praises 
All  thy  glories,  O,  my  state; 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
Thou  art  greatest  of  the  great  ! 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
Bravest  are  thy  noble  sons, 

In  the  thunders  of  the  battle, 
And  the  roaring  of  the  guns  ! 

Flash  of  sword  and  musket's  rattle 
Never  fearful  terror  gave 

To  the  staunch  and  valiant  bosoms 
Of  thy  happy  hosts  and  brave. 

When  the  roars  of  hell  grow  louder, 
And  the  mountains  shake  in  fright, 

In  the  lurid  clouds  of  powder, 
They  are  foremost  in  the  fight; 

And  when  bayonet  and  musket, 
Sword  and  saber,  slaughter  cease, 

They  are  tendcrest  and  truest 
In  the  silent  ways  of  peace. 

O,  my  state  !     A  stream  of  greatness 
From  thy  mighty  people  runs; 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
Bravest  are  thy  noble  sons  ! 


1 2  Oklahoma. 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
Fairest  are  thy  daughters  fair, 

In  the  thousand  deeds  of  duty 
Thou  hast  given  them  to  bear; 

Peerless  is  their  wondrous  beauty, 
Bright  with  blushes  as  the  rose, 

Pure  as  petals  of  the  lily, 
White  as  newly-fallen  snows; 

And  their  voices  bright  with  blessing 
Banish  misery  and  woe, 

While  their  fingers'  soft  caressing 
Soothes  the  fevers  from  the  brow. 

Souls  are  always  blessed  with  brightness 
Bosoms  filled  with  goodly  pearls, 

Hearts  forever  harvest  gladness, 
In  the  glances  of  thy  girls. 

They  are  robed  in  golden  garments, 
Nature's  vestments,  rich  and  rare; 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
Fairest  are  thy  daughters  fair  ! 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
Sweetest  are  thy  happy  homes, 

Smiling  in  the  holy  gladness 
Which  above  thee  always  roams; 

They  are  never  linked  with  sadness, 
They  are  never  bound  with  pains, 

For  the  sunshine  of  enjoyment 
Rules  the  people  of  thy  plains. 


Oklahoma.  13 

Songs  are  singing  with  thy  maidens, 
Music  echoes  with  thy  wives, 

Rapture  slays  the  grief  that  ladens 
All  the  gladness  of  their  lives. 

Happiness  is  with  thy  husbands, 
And  thy  swains  are  blest  with  joy, 

While  the  fondest  rapture  rises 
In  the  hearts  of  girl  and  boy. 

Pleasures  linger  in  thy  woodlands, 
Gladness  on  thy  prairies  roams; 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
Sweetest  are  thy  happy  homes  ! 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
Thou  shalt  ever  live  in  song; 

Freedom,  near  to  nature,  raises 
Temples  that  to  thee  belong; 

Minstrels  shall  in  merry  praises 
Wind  their  music  o'er  thy  name 

Till  the  voices  of  the  ages 
Shout  for  thee  in  wild  acclaim; 

They  shall  sing  with  tender  pleasure 
Beauty  of  thy  daughters  true; 

Sing,  in  high,  exultant  measure, 
Deeds  thy  sons  in  battle  do. 

Sages  shall  in  wisdom  offer 
Full  rewards  of  love  to  thee, 

And  shall  crown  thy  land  and  people 

Favorites  of  liberty. 

— •-  t^»- ~*t?  S^ 

OF  THH         ^S 

r<UHIVBRSIT7] 


14  Oklahoma. 

All  thy  glory  shall  be  shining 
Through  the  cycles  clear  and  strong; 

Oklahoma  !     Oklahoma  ! 
Thou    '    shalt  ever  live  in  song  ! 

Oklahoma!     Oklahoma! 
Romance  of  the  ages,  thou! 

Now,  unknown;  a  moment  later, 
Kingly  crowns  upon  thy  brow! 

Child  of  all  the  nations,  greater 
Shall  thy  splendors  year  by  year 

Grow  unfading,  bringing  bounties 
Full  of  happiness  and  cheer! 

Morning  saw  a  desert  sleeping, 
Worn  and  wasted  with  distress; 

Night  beheld  an  empire  keeping 
Watch  above  the  wilderness. 

Progress  with  her  wand  of  magic 
Touched  the  sleeping  valleys  bright, 

And  they  leaped  with  instant  vigor, 
Shaking  out  their  locks  of  might; 

Earth  shall  send  her  fairest  blossoms 
As  a  garland  for  thy  brow; 

Oklahoma!     Oklahoma! 
Romance  of  the  ages  thou! 


The  Race  for  Homes.  15 


THE  RACE  FOR  HOMES. 

APRIL    22,     1889. 

BEHOLD!     As  from  the  shades  of  night, 
An  army  gathers  full  of  might, 
And  strong  with  constant  courage  stands 
'Tween  civilized  and  savage  lands, 
Where,  vast  in  power,  the  legion  waits 
The  turning  of  the  desert  gates, 
That  men  of  might  may  enter  in 
And  progress  all  her  glories  win! 
Lo,  where  these  thousands  make  assail, 
The  barren  ages  all  shall  fail, 
And  swift  advancement  far  be  hurled, 
O'er  sleeping  empires  and  the  world! 

The  morning  hours  haste  hurried  by; 
Behold!     The  noon  is  drawing  nigh! 
The  anxious  host  with  careful  eyes 
Marks  well  each  rapid  hour  that  flies, 
While  hope,  exulting,  wildly  rolls 
The  highest,  such  as  filled  the  souls 
Of  Jason  and  his  comrades  bold, 
Who  sought  the  famous  fleece  of  gold. 
Upon  the  trampled  grasses  beat 
Impatient  steeds  with  restless  feet; 


1 6  Oklahoma. 

The  dins  of  harsh,  discordant  cries 
Above  the  thrilling  thousands  rise; 
Shrilly  the  scattered  children  call, 
And  soft  the  words  of  women  fall, 
While  men  with  voices  hushed  and  weak 
Their  low  commands  expectant  speak; 
Till  suddenly  a  mighty  cry, 
A  shout  of  warning,  smites  the  sky: 


"Attention!     Ho, 
Attention  here! 
Attention!     Lo, 

The  noon  is  near!  " 
O'er  hill  and  brake 
Resounds  the  warning  cry; 
The  moment  great  is  nigh; 

The  hosts  awake; 
Awake,  to  strive  with  mad  delight, 
Awake  to  win  the  friendly  fight; 
And  from  the  camps  anear  and  far, 
Where  nervous  haste  and  hurry  are, 
Vast  legions  gather  on  the  plain, 
While  chaos  and  confusion  reign; 
The  neighing  steed  with  quickened  pace 
Impatient  seeks  the  vantage  place; 
The  slower  ox  with  lightened  load 
Stands  waiting  in  the  crowded  road. 
And  wagon,  buggy,  carriage,  cart, 


The  Race  for  Homes.  17 

Vehicles  formed  with  rudest  art, 
All  forward,  forward,  forward  dart, 
Swift-forming  on  the  level  ground 
Where  most  advantage  may  be  found. 

"Lineup!     Ho,  there, 
Line  up,  line  up!  " 

The  hurried  order  smites  the  air; 

Above  the  silent  prairies  fair 

Unseen  progression  holds  her  cup, 

Filled  to  the  brim  with  magic  seeds 

That  harvests  hold  for  human  needs. 

Excitement  grows  on  beasts  and  men; 
The  saddle  girths  are  tightened  o'er, 
The  stirrups  lengthened  out  once  more, 

And  silence  softly  falls  again; 

Each  bit  and  buckle,  strap  and  band, 

Is  tested  o'er  with  careful  hand, 

And  man  and  beast  in  chosen  place 

Stand  ready  for  the  coming  race; 

The  circling  sun 
His  morning  race  has  fully  run; 

A  waving  hand 

Signals  above  the  brief  command 
That  sight  and  sense  will  understand, — 
And  open  swings  the  desert  land! 
A  shot!     A  hundred,  thousand  more 
The  grassy  meadows  echo  o'er; 


1 8  Oklahoma. 

A  shout!     From  countless  throats  a  shout, 

On  rolling  wings  leaps  madly  out; 

A  yell,  a  raging  roar,  that  flies 

On  bounding  winds  o'er  hill  and  glen, 

And  'round  the  land  electrifies 

A  thousand  living  miles  of  men! 

A  mammoth  stir, 
A  sudden  dash, 

Swift  whip  and  spur 

Together  clash, 
And  wheels  on  wheels  that  totter  crash! 

They're  off!     They're  off! 

Away,  away, 

In  mad  array! 

No  stop  nor  stay! 
The  hurried  charge  they  ride  to-day 

Would  shame  and  scoff 
The  Tartar,  Turk  and  Romanoff! 

The  race  is  on; 

The  host  is  gone; 
The  thronging  legions  madly  ride 

O'er  hill  and  dale, 
With  hurried  pace  unsatisfied, 

In  fierce  assail 

Where  none  may  fail; 
And  only  phantoms  dimly  blent 
Tell  where  the  mounted  armies  went, 
Like  shifting  shadows,  faint  and  dim, 
Or  ghostly  spectors,  gaunt  and  grim, 
Beyond  the  far  horizon's  rim! 


At  Perry,   September  16,  1893.  19 

Behold!     Adown  the  valleys  bright, 
The  last,  lone  straggler  fades  from  sight, 
And  only  hasty  hoof-beats  say 
What  thousands  rode  the  race  to-day; 
What  hosts,  with  hearts  that  build  and  bless, 
Found  homes  amid  the  wilderness! 


AT  PERRY,  SEPTEMBER  16,   1893, 

pROWDS!  Crowds!  Crowds! 

\j    Suddenly  here  as  if  come  from  the  clouds 
That  faded  away  as  they  came; 

Mad  acres  of  people  aflame 
With  thirst  for  a  morsel  of  land; 

Wild  hunters  of  fortune,  whose  game 
Is  ever  escaping  the  hand; 

Vast,  countless,  uncountable  throngs 
With  restless,  unrestable  feet, 

That  hurry  the  ways,  full  of  agonized  wrongs, 
For  the  conquest  of  happiness  sweet; 

Wild  seas  of  ambition  whose  waves  of  desire 
On  their  obstacles  mighty  continually  beat, 

Where  neither  the  shore    nor   the    ocean   is 
fixed; 

Like  thunderous  songs  of  a  choir, 
Whose  murmurs  in  music  repeat; 

And  confusion  and  chaos  are  terribly  mingled 
and  mixed. 


20  Oklahoma. 

Dust!  Dust!  Dust! 

Borne  in  the  arms  of  the  gathering  gust, 

And  whirled  on  the  wings  of  the  wind, 

The  eyes  feel  the  blight  of  the  blind, 
And  horror  comes  into  the  heart; 

For  nature  is  far  more  unkind 
Than  the  thousands  that  struggle  apart. 

Dark,  wild,  inescapable  dust, 
In  fiercest,  untamable  clouds, 

That  men  into  misery  helplessly  thrust, 
And  bury  in  agony-shrouds; 

A  simoom  of  sorrow  whose  pestilent  breath 
To  the  strong  and  the  weak,  to  the  young  and 
the  old, 

Brings  despair  that  is  reckless  of  possible  gain, 
And  the  awfullest  anguish  of  death; 

Till  the  soul  in  its  rage  uncontrolled, 
Droops  low  in  the  horrible  sickness  and  sorrow 
of  pain. 


But  out  from  the  clouds, 

Out  from  the  agonized  dust  that   enshrouds; 

True  kings  shall  arise  who  shall  reign 

In  homes  on  the  populous  plain! 
Great  cities  shall  gather  and  grow 

In  glories  that  never  shall  wane, 
Far  over  the  valleys  below. 

With  merry  yet  measureless  might 


"Sing  Me  a  Song,    O,    Wind."  21 

They     conquer    the    waste   with  the  gladness 

that  brings 

To  the  desert  the  newest  delight. 
The  barren  shall  bloom  as  the  rose,  and  the  land 
That  is  sleeping,   a   wilderness   wasted   and 

wild, 

And  dreaming   to   welcome   its  master's   com 
mand, 

Shall  leap  at  the  touch  of  his  hand, 
His  voice  shall  obey  as  a  child! 


"SING  ME  A  SONG,  O,   WIND." 

SING  me  a  song,  O,  Wind, 
Of  musical  cadence  sweet, 
Which  in  the  wood  around 
Shall  often  and  oft  repeat; 
Soft  as  an  angel's  song 

That  never  can  give  annoy, 
Which  in  the  balmy  notes 
Shall  tell  me  its  tales  of  joy. 

Sing  me  a  song,  O,  Wind, 
Of  countries  beyond  the  sea, 

Which  in  thy  wand'rings  oft 
Thou  pass  with  a  footstep  free; 


22  Oklahoma. 

Lands  that  are  ever  green 

'  Neath  blaze  of  the  tropic  spells, 

Bright  with  their  blessed  suns, 
Where  summer  forever  dwells. 


Sing  me  a  song,  O,  Wind, 

Of  groves  with  a  verdure  fair, 
Waving  their  boughs  of  green 

O'er  solitudes  grand  and  rare; 
Groves  with  a  stillness  sweet, 

With  cheering  and  cooling  shades, 
Where  from  its  cares  the  race 

May  rest  in  the  leafy  glades. 

Sing  me  a  song,  O,  Wind, 

Of  birds  with  a  plumage  gay, 
That  with  their  carols  sweet 

Give  praise  to  the  God  of  day; 
Music  of  sad  refrain, 

Though  fond  in  its  tender  chime, 
Thou  in  thy  travels  wide 

Hast  heard  in  a  fairy  clime. 

Sing  me  a  song,  O,  Wind, 
Of  crystalline  brooks  at  play, 

Which  with  the  murmurs  low 

Make  sweetest  of  sounds  all  day; 


"Sing  Me  a  Song,    O,    Wind:'  23 

Winding  through  meadows  wide, 
And  blossoming  fields  between, 

Fringed  with  the  willows  tall 
On  emerald  banks  of  green. 


Sing  me  a  song,  O,  Wind, 

Of  flowers  that  are  fond  and  fair, 
Filling  the  fields  of  earth 

With  beauty  and  fragrance  rare; 
Wafting  an  incense  pure 

On  every  breeze  that  blows, 
Drawn  from  the  lily's  heart 

And  soul  of  the  royal  rose. 

Sing  me  a  song,  O,  Wind, 

Of  man  in  his  brightest  homes; 
Tell  if  he  there  meet  joy, 

Wherever  his  longing  roams; 
Tell  if  there's  e'er  a  place 

Where,  all  his  ambition  spent, 
He  toils  throughout  all  his  days 

And  knoweth  no  discontent. 

Sing  me  a  song,  O,  Wind, 

For  I  am  a- weary  now; 
Life,  with  its  woes  and  cares, 

Hangs  heavily  on  my  brow; 


OF  THE 

'TJHI7BRSIT7; 


24  Oklahoma. 

Sing  me  a  song  of  cheer, 
My  heart  that  is  sad  to  ease; 

Sing  in  thy  brightness  and  joy 
With  heavenly  harmonies! 


A  CHRISTMAS  CAROL. 

THE  brazen  bells  of  laughing  lands 
In  swelling  echoes  wildly  ring. 

And  over  seas  and  hoary  strands 
This  Christmas  carol  sing. 

WAKEN,  O,  heart  of  the  race, 

To  bountiful  riches  from  Eden  above, 
Till  roses  of  beauty  and  lilies  of  grace 
Shall  sweeten  the  languishing  bosom  with  love; 
Till  virulent  sorrow  and  venomous  hate 

Their  poisonous  curses  of  misery  cease, 
And  rapturous  fortune,  felicitous  fate, 

Have  rule  in  the  musical  meadows  of  peace. 

"  The  voices  of  morning  to  men, 

In  passionate  whispers  of  bounteous  glee, 

Are  pulsing  the  gladness  of  Christmas  again 

O'er  plains  of  the  prairie  and  sounds  of  the  sea; 


A   Christmas  Carol.  25 

Rejoice  and  be  happy,  O,  languishing  soul, 
In  limitless  treasures  of  marvelous  cheer, 

Till  ravishing  murmurs  of  lullabies  roll 

Through  all  of  the  sorrows  that  sadden  the  year  ! 


"Though  summer  has  gone  from  the  earth, 

And  silken  embraces  of  velvety  snow 
Are  folding  the  blossoms  of  beauty  and  worth 

In  wretched  surroundings  of  wearisome  woe; 
Let  innocent  joys  in  their  sweetness  abound 

And  silvery  cadence  in  melody  start, 
Till  rapturous  fortunes  with  pleasure  surround 

The  aims  of  the  soul  and  the  hopes  of  the  heart. 

"Let  youth  with  its  yearning  engage 

All  vigorous  passion  that  lives  in  the  breast, 
While  tearful  remembrance  of  tottering  age 

Finds  halcyon  harbors  of  comforting  rest; 
Let  silver  of  years  with  the  ardor  of  youth 

Be  going  again  through  the  temple  of  joy, 
While  palms  of  amusment  and  laurels  of  truth 

Encircle  the  hearts  of  the  maiden  and  boy. 

"  Let  happiness  reign  with  the  race; 

There's  never  a  reason  for  sorrowful  tears, 
Kriss  Kringle  has  come  with  his  fatherly  face 

To  comfort  complaining  humanity's  fears; 


26  Oklahoma. 

Let  music  go  'round  and  the  beautiful  smile 
Bring  gladsome  delight  to  the  bosom  of  bliss, 

Till  gentle  enjoyments  unbroken  beguile 
The  souls  of  the  sad  with  their  coveted  kiss. 

"  Though  crystalline  frost  on  the  trees, 

Though  ice  on  the  river  and  snow  on  the  plain 
Are  freezing  the  breath  of  the  shivering  breeze, 

The  heart  has  Nepenthe  for  all  of  its  pain; 
For  Christmas  is  king,  and  his  bountiful  hand 

Is  giving  its  treasures  to  mountain  and  lea, 
And  gentleness  rules  on  the  billowy  strand, 

And  reigns  in  the  far-away  isles  of  the  sea." 

THIS  is  the  carol  that  swells 
Over  the  meadows  and  brakes, 

From  brazen  throats  of  the  pealing  bells 
When  Christmas  morning  wakes. 


YEARS  THAT   ARE  TO  BE. 

WILD  years  that  are  to  be 
The  sad  completion  of  my  weary  life, 
In  ghostly  mantles  of  despairing  strife 
Your  phanton  dimness  darkly  shadows  me! 
Guant  demons  dancing  from  your  horrid  halls 
Entwine  my  soul  in  gloomy  arms  of  woe, 
While  mystic  fancies  to  my  madness  show 
The  monsters  on  your  walls. 


Years  that  Are  to  Be.  27 

Your  forms  are  skeletons, 
Whose  bony  hands  with  mortal  fingers  play, 
Where  grinning  skulls  are  heaping  on  the  way, 
And  airy  specters  meet  the  timid  ones; 
Death  drops  his  arrows  from  your  sullen  skies, 
Destruction  dances  in  your  noisome  shades, 
And  in  the  dreadful  darkness  of  your  glades 

The  horrid  shriekings  rise. 

There  in  your  cycles  are 
Dark  valleys  where  my  weary  feet  must  go, 
Though  devils  of  disaster  hurl  and  throw 
Their  awful  sorrows  from  the  fortunes  far; 
No  hands  of  pleasure  can  presume  to  part 
The  clouded  curtains  of  impending  care, 
And  hissing  serpents  of  insane  despair 

Pour  poison  in  my  heart. 

O,  years  that  are  to  be, 
Among  your  solitudes  I,  dreaming,  grope; 
My  life's  the  shade  of  unaccomplished  hope, 
My  heart's  a  ghoul  that  feeds  on  agony! 
No  strains  of  music  call  my  tears  away, 
No  smiling  star  illumes  the  awful  night; 
Ambition  weeps;  my  soul  draws  without  light 

My  shameless  feet  astray! 

No  soothing  welcome  floats 
Between  your  marble  lips,  nor  sweetly  rise 


28  Oklahoma. 

The  tender  songs  of  gentle  melodies 
From  croaking  caverns  of  your  iron  throats; 
But  from  your  dirges  of  destructive  pain, 
Wild  clash  of  wretched  sound  is  borne  to  me, 
Where  death  and  failure,  tears  and  misery, 
In  robes  ot  anguish  reign. 

But  my  heart  hopes  to  find 
Some  infant  joy  for  woes  that  sorrow  did, 
Some  faded  garland  on  some  coffin  lid, 
To  cheer  the  wildness  of  my  broken  mind; 
Some  angel  pleasures  in  your  realms  must  roll, 
Some  laughing  life,  some  music,  in  your  glooms, 
Shall  gladness  give,  amid  your  ghostly  tombs, 

Mad  Future,  to  my  soul! 


IF  WE  DON'T  OR  IF  WE  DO. 

IF  we  don't  or  if  we  do, 
What's  the  odds  to  me  and  you  ? 
Fame  is  e'er  a  heartless  jade, 
And  her  slaves  are  poorly  paid; 
Weary  hearts  and  soul's  distress 
Are  the  prices  of  success; 
All  our  stations  sadness  view, — 
If  we  don't  or  if  we  do. 


If  We  don't  or  if  We  do.  29 

If  we  don't  or  if  we  do, 
Our  deservings  will  accrue; 
We  must  pay  the  fullest  price, 
For  each  virtue  and  each  vice, 
And  each  life  for  every  thing 
Must  an  equal  portion  bring; 
Justice  shall  our  deeds  review, 
If  we  don't  or  if  we  do. 

If  we  don't  or  if  we  do, 
Fortune  to  our  worth  is  true; 
Trophies  that  enshroud  our  clay, 
Scarce  are  worth  the  price  we  pay; 
Shame  doth  small  endeavors  share, 
Fame  and  glory,  toil  and  care; 
Earth  floats  but  an  equal  crew, 
If  we  don't  or  if  we  do. 

If  we  don't  or  if  we  do, 
What's  the  difference  'tween  the  two, 
When  our  souls  have  gone  to  God 
And  we  sleep  beneath  the  sod  ? 
Kindred  grasses  wave  and  creep 
Where  the  prince  and  pauper  sleep; 
We  shall  have  our  six-feet-two, 
If  we  don't  or  if  we  do. 

If  we  don't  or  if  we  do, 

We  but  dust  and  ashes  brew; 


30  Oklahoma. 

Labor,  trouble,  toil  and  strife 
Weave  within  each  human  life; 
Sorrows  cloud  the  younger  years; 
Age  is  bowed  with  cares  and  tears; 
Accidents  in  fame  are  few, — 
If  we  don't  or  if  we  do. 


If  we  don't  or  if  we  do, 
Fate  to  our  deserts  is  true; 
If  we  fail,  or  falter  not, 
Every  life  deserves  his  lot; 
Every  human,  small  or  great, 
Buys  with  current  coin  his  fate; 
What's  the  odds  to  me  and  you, 
If  we  don't  or  if  we  do  ? 


DEAR  SONGS  OF  MY  COUNTRY! 

DEAR  songs  of  my  country!     How  sweetly  thy 
measures 

Come  stealthily  stealing  o'er   mountain    and 
wave, 
To  sweeten  the  riches  of  liberty's  treasures 

And  thrill  with  their  numbers  the  hearts  of    the 
brave! 


Dear  Songs  of  my  Country.  31 

To  move  in  wild  glory  the  souls  of  a  nation, 
Till  men  are  together  so  happily  hurled, 

That  millions  are  bound  in  fraternal  relation 

And  brotherhoods  rule  in  the  ranks  of  the  world. 


Such  praises  ye  offer  our  heroes  and  sages, 

So  grand  is  the  greatness  that  lives  in  thy  strains, 
That  small  is  the  fame  of  the  far  away  ages, 

So  sunken  in  tyranny,  fettered  in  chains. 
For  freedom  ye  strive  and  ye  struggle  for  glory, 

And  Liberty — Liberty  still  is  your  theme — 
And  glad  are  your  lips  with  the  national  story, 

Which  warriors  have  written  on  forest  and  stream. 

Dear  songs  of  my  country!     The  soul  patriotic 

Ye  fill  with  the  wishes  of  mighty  emprise, 
Till  conquers  he  tyranny  harsh  and  despotic, 

Or  first  in  the  front  of  the  battle  he  dies. 
Ye  offer  him  laurels,  ye  crown  him  with  praises, 

Who  falls  in  the  fight  with  his  face  to  the  foe, 
And  gratitude  over  his  sepulcher  raises 

The  marbles  eternal  of  national  woe. 

Your    strains    are    as    high    as    the    cloud-covered 
mountains, 

As  deep  as  the  ocean,  as  wide  as  the  land, 
As  pure  as  the  murmurs  of  silvery  fountains, 

But  loud  as  the  roar  on  the  billowy  strand. 

~AT 

'V     o?  - 


WFIESITY 


osr 


32  Oklahoma. 

Our  deep-furrowed  prairies,  our  ship-laden  rivers, 
Our  ax-ringing  forests,  our  steam-shrieking  bays, 

Swell  high  in  your  music,  for  all  are  free  givers 
To  freedom's  true  grandeur  and  liberty's  praise. 

How  fondly,  dear  songs  of  my  country,  ye  cherish 

The  struggle  heroic,  the  God-shapen  deed, 
That  nothing  of  worthiness  ever  may  perish 

But  live  to  the  time  of  humanity's  need! 
Afar  from  the  realms  of  the  centuries  olden, 

Ye  summon  with  gladness  the  glories  of  years, 
To  greet  every  hero  with  cadences  golden, 

And  sing  every  sage  that  in  greatness  appears. 

The  ages  may  falter  thee,  Land  of  my  Birth, 

The  years  may  thy  grandeur  and  glory  betray; 
But  long  as  thy  songs  murmur  over  the  earth, 

No  forces  can  carry  thy  splendors  away! 
Then  live,  ye  dear  songs  of  my  country,  forever, 

With  voices  eternal  to  utter  her  name, 
That  cycles  may  never  her  liberty  sever, 

Nor  trample  her  greatness  nor  crumble  her  fame! 


July  Fourth.  33 


JULY  FOURTH. 

HAIL,  glorious  morning  of  Columbia's  birth, 
Celestial  dawn  of  freedom!     There  shall   be 
In  recognition  of  thy  wondrous  worth 
By  mighty  millions  this  side  of  the  sea, 
Triumphant  crowns  of  laurel  wreathed  for  thee! 
Welcome  thy  mammoth  pageants,  welcome  all 

The  choral  songs  and  melodies  of  glee, 
The  swelling  shouts  of  praise  that  gladly  fall 
From  mighty  multitudes  in  anthems  national! 

High  hangs  the  sacred  banner,  and  the  stars 
Dance  in  the  sunshine,  while  the  breezes  play 

Around  the  glory  of  the  hallowed  bars 

Gleaming  in  white  and  crimson;  music  gay 
Floats  from  the  patriot  host  and  cheers  array 

Great  shouts  around  its  foldings.     Long  in  state, 
Flag  of  the  brave  and  free,  wave  o'er  this  day 

To  bring  the  world  rejoicings  which  await 

The  natal  hours  of  might,  the  day  we  celebrate! 

How  fears  the  tyrant  in  his  capital, 

As  myriad  wires  throb  with  the  nation's  tale! 

How  despot  trembles  in  his  castled  hall, 

When  liberty's  wild  shouts  of  power  prevail, 


34  Oklahoma. 

And  give  their  gladness  unto  every  gale! 
Fetters  and  chains  dissolve  in  holy  trust, 

Scepters  and  swords  in  puny  weakness  fail, 
While  crowns  and  thrones  make  monumental  dust, 
And  kingly  Might   is   dead,  Oppression  downward 
thrust. 

Wide  float  thy  wondrous  paeans;  loudly  range 
Thy  songs  of  holy  rapture;  and  the  roars 

Of  deep-mouthed    cannons  echo  wild  and  strange 
Through  shouting  cities;  Patriotism  pours 
Her  full  libations  on  the  trembling  shores, 

Till  earth  reels  with  her  triumph;  and  the  voice 
Of  millions  mad  with  merriment  far  soars 

From  sea  to  ocean  with  entrancing  noise, 

Till  nations  hear  the  cry  and  continents  rejoice. 

Wave  on,  thou  flag  of  freedom,  and  this  day 
Still  live  in  hearts  of  nations!     O,  thou  Land, 

Where  Man  was  first  the  monarch,  where  the  sway 
Of  birth  exalted  first  was  broken,  stand 
To  guard  the  helpless  with  a  mighty  hand, 

And  give  the  weak  protection;  scout  the  ban 
Which  tyrants  utter,  and  with  growing  band 

Of  noble  freemen  serve  thy  primal  plan, 

And  bind  all  nations  in  the  Brotherhood  of  Man! 


"O,  Gentle  Shade  of  Quiet  Woods"         35 


O,  GENTLE  SHADE  OF  QUIET  WOODS." 

0,  GENTLE  shade  of  quiet  woods, 
Where  nature  dwells  in  leafy  halls, 
I  love  the  sacred  voice  that  falls 
In  music  o'er  thy  solitudes! 
Within  thine  arms  the  weary  heart 
Is  hidden  from  the  toils  of  men, 
And  pleasure  makes  ambition  start 
Into  a  nobler  life  again. 


Among  the  fragrant  shadows  throng 
With  all  the  riches  of  their  truth, 
Glad  echoes  from  the  days  of  youth 

And  mingle  into  laughing  song; 

While  angel  fingers  touch  the  keys 
That  slumber  in  the  silent  breast, 

Till  mem'ry  wakes  her  lullabies 

And  childhood  fancies  rock  to  rest. 


Again  the  hours  of  early  joy 
Upon  the  aged  years  intrude, 
And  dance  amid  the  summer  wood 

The  golden  dreamings  of  the  boy; 


36  Oklahoma. 

Again  the  songs  of  wonder  thrill 
The  days  of  life  with  gladness  wild, 

And  lofty  visions  fondly  fill 

The  longing  fancies  of  the  child. 

Enchanted  choirs  of  baby  years, 
Sweet  dirges  from  the  cradle's  keys, 
The  glories  of  your  harmonies 

Impel  my  secret  soul  to  tears! 

The  roses  of  my  fancies  fade 
Into  the  dust  of  wicked  strife, 

And  all  the  promise  boyhood  made 
Has  proved  the  desert  of  my  life. 

O,  fragrant  woods  of  happy  times, 
Fair  children  of  the  glowing  days, 
How  sweet  the  music  of  your  lays 

Is  mingled  into  fairy  chimes! 

Ye  lisp  again  the  songs  of  yore, 
The  stories  of  my  infant  years, 

And  throw  a  sweeter  cadence  o'er 
My  hoary  sorrows  and  my  tears! 


Love.  37 


LOVE. 

\  NGELIC  theme  of  ancient  lays! 
X~j      By  Doric  hills,  Athenian  vales, 

The  nations  bound  thy  brows  with  bays 
And  fanned  thy  cheeks  with  scented  gales; 
While  golden  lamps  illumed  thy  shrines 
Beside  the  Tiber  and  the  Po, 
Till  anthems  thine  were  taught  to  flow 
Along  the  Alps  and  Appenines. 

The  souls  of  sages  and  of  slaves 
Were  faithful  servants  unto  thee, 

Whose  rapture  soothed  the  Grecian  waves, 
And  kissed  the  islands  of  the  sea; 

And  bounding  on  from  strand  to  strand 

It  crossed  the  coasts  and  climbed  the  slopes, 
To  place  a  crown  of  tender  hopes 

Upon  the  vine-clad  Roman  land. 

Great  empress  of  that  early  time, 

Glad  ruler  of  the  gentle  souls, 
Each  year  is  changed  to  raptured  rhyme 

That  o'er  thy  laughing  bosom  rolls; 


38  Oklahoma. 

For  cycles  as  they  sink  to  rest 

So  closely  guard  thy  joy  and  truth, 
That  fondness  and  immortal  youth 

Give  sweet  embraces  to  thy  breast. 

Thou  goddess  of  the^Paphian  shrine, 

Cytheran  queen  of  Ion's  isle, 
Fair  Venus  from  the  land  of  wine, 

The  races  love  thy  dewy  smile; 
While  silent  hills  and  dewy  glades 

Bear  praises  on  each  breeze  that  blows, 

Sweet  as  the  breath  of  morning  rose 
That  blossoms  in  the  woodland  shades! 

Then  crown,  O,  Love,  these  later  days 
With  mystic  charms  of  wondrous  bliss, 

That  lived  when  thou  wert  wreathed  with  bays, 
And  nations  hungered  for  thy  kiss! 

No  more  thy  temples  tower  above, 
But  lives  and  bosoms  hold  thee  dear; 
Then  come  with  all  thy  worth  of  cheer 
And  gentleness,  O,  mighty  Love! 


Winters  on  the  Farm.  39 


WINTERS  ON  THE  FARM. 

GLAD  winters  on  the  olden  farm! 
How  raptures  from  those  early  times 
Commingle  into  fairy  chimes 
Which  gently  banish  cries  of  harm! 

My  fainting  soul  finds  rest  the  whiles 
Within  the  arms  of  memory, 
And  tender  scenes  of  boyish  glee 
Transform  my  sorrows  into  smiles. 


How  brightly  beamed  the  pleasures  then, 
When  frigid  fingers  came  to  throw 
A  wintry  winding  sheet  of  snow 

Around  the  silent  homes  of  men! 

But  happiness  found  no  alarm, 

For  safe  with  cheer,  secure  with  love, 
She  gladly  grew  and  sweetly  throve 

Through  winters  on  the  olden  farm. 


With  merry  bells  and  busy  sleighs, 
That  sung  and  flew  o'er  icy  vales 
And  climbed  the  hills  as  fleet  as  gales, 

Like  singing  phantoms  died  the  days; 


40  Oklahoma. 

Or  then  with  coat  and  muffler  warm 
Sweet  children  glided  on  the  lake, 
Or  chased,  the  rabbit  through  the  brake, 

In  winters  on  the  olden  farm. 


How  glad  the  joys  at  eventide 

When  'round  the  hearth-stone's  pleasant  heat 

The  simple  song  in  music  sweet 
From  loving  voices  floated  wide! 
The  mellowed  apples  gave  a  charm, 

While  pop-corn  white  and  cider  bright 

With  worlds  of  laughter  lent  delight 
To  winters  on  the  olden  farm. 

Thrice  happy  nights  and  happy  days, 
Sweet  isles  of  pleasure  in  the  past, 
May  long  your  hallowed  moments  cast 

A  sacred  sunshine  o'er  my  ways! 

And  where  life  leads  me,  gladly  arm 
My  soul  with  angel  songs  of  bliss, 
With  true  embrace  and  holy  kiss, 

O,  winters  on  the  olden  farm! 


"O,    Weak  and    Weary    World!"  41 


"O,  WEAK  AND  WEARY  WORLD!" 

OWEAK  and  weary  world 
Forever  struggling  on, 
When  will  thy  toils  in  comfort  be 

impearled, 

When  will  thy  sorrows  and  thy  cares  be  gone  ? 
When  shall  the  races,  all  ambition  dead, 

Forsake  the  stony  slope  and  rocky  steep, 
And  in  contentment  sweetly  wed 
The  joys  that  never  sleep  ? 

O,  weak  and  weary  world, 

Long  hast  thou  toiled  in  vain; 
The  smoky  fumes  of  woe  are  darkly  curled 

With  endless  troubles  and  enduring  pain; 
When  will  thy  bosom,  faint  and  helpless  grown, 

Rest  sweetly  in  the  balmy  bowers  of  ease? 
Avoid  the  woes  that  constant  groan 

And  follow  shapes  that  please? 

O,  weak  and  weary  world, 

Why  search  the  hills  and  seas? 
All  Nature  is  in  secrecy  enfurled 

And  thou  canst  never  solve  her  mysteries; 


42  Oklahoma. 

Thou  canst  not  understand  nor  comprehend 
Her  varied  movements  nor  the  intricate, 

The  systems  that  so  far  extend, 
Creation  wide  and  great. 

O,  weak  and  weary  world, 

Why  more  attempt  advance  ? 
Long  have  thy  forces  in  confusion  whirled 

In  circles  through  the  misty  maze  of  chance; 
The  nations  rise  and  sink  in  sepulchres, 

Thy  peoples  perish  in  a  common  grave; 
Progression  dies,  perfection  errs, 

Wrong  rules  the  wood  and  wave. 

O,  weak  and  weary  world, 

Let  thy  ambition  rest! 
Long  have  defeat  and  gloomy  ruin  twirled 

In  dark  embrace  the  purest  and  the  best; 
Destruction  is  thy  portion,  death  thy  part, 

Ashes  thy  glory,  and  thy  splendor  dust; 
Then  ease  the  longings  of  thy  breast; 

Serve  pleasures  well;  and  trust! 


Ex  Anima.  43 


EX  ANIMA. 

THE  gloomy  hours  of  silence  wake 
Remembrance  and  her  train, 
And  phantoms  through  the  fancies  chase 
The  mem'ries  that  remain; 
And  hidden  in  the  dark  embrace 

Of  days  that  now  are  gone, 
I  see  a  form,  a  fairy  form, 
And  fancy  hurries  on! 

I  see  the  old  familiar  smile, 

I  hear  the  tender  tone, 
I  greet  the  softness  of  the  glance 

That  cheered  me  when  alone; 
The  ruby  chains  of  rich  romance 

That  bound  our  bosoms  o'er, 
I  still  can  know,  I  still  can  feel, 

As  they  were  felt  before. 


I  name  the  vows,  the  fresh  young  vows, 

That  we  together  said; 
What  matters  it  ?     She  can  not  know; 

She  slumbers  with  the  dead! 


44  Oklahoma. 

Again  the  fields  of  fate  I  sow, 
As  she  and  I  have  sown; 

I  dream  again  the  same  old  dreams, 
But  I  am  left  alone! 


The  twining  grasses  verdant  wreathe 

Above  her  silent  grave; 
The  rose  and  violet  over  all 

Their  purest  blossoms  wave; 
Unbidden  from  their  fountains  fall 

The  tender  tides  of  tears; 
A  sorrow  winds  among  the  days, 

And  chains  the  passing  years. 

My  life  commingles  shine  with  shade, 

The  lily  with  the  rose, 
And  in  my  heart  a  loathsome  weed 

Beside  each  lily  grows; 
Through  every  thought,  through  every  deed 

The  somber  shadows  play; 
And  I  am  sad,  alone  and  sad, 

And  life  is  never  gay. 


"/,<?,  all  the  Age  is  Rank  with  Wrong."      45 


"LO,  ALL  THE  AGE  IS  RANK  WITH 
WRONG." 

LO,  all  the  age  is  rank  with  wrong! 
The  nations  kneel  to  monstrous  might, 
And  horrid  cries  that  haunt  the  night, 
Have  hushed  the  notes  of  happy  song; 
Mankind  the  deepest  truth  has  missed, 
The  best  emotions  have  grown  dim; 
We  praise  the  God  that  dwelt  in  Christ, 
But  crucify  the  man  in  him. 

Laws,  noble,  good,  and  great  at  first, 
With  plan  perverted,  bind  again 
The  regal  rights  of  mind  and  men 

And  prove  of  tyrants  far  the  worst; 

With  blinded  eyes  is  Nature  made, 

And  knows  her  constant  purpose  crossed, 

While  crafty  Jacob  plies  his  trade 
And  Esau  finds  his  blessing  lost. 

Earth  yields  her  fruits  in  ample  store; 
Her  children  all  are  heirs  that  trace 
Their  lineage  through  the  royal  race, 

And  all  her  wealth  is  theirs — and  more; 


46  Oklahoma. 

But    one  with  cunning  hand  controls 
The  portions  that  his  brothers  fed, 

While  thousands — just  and  worthy  souls — 
In  aimless  anguish  cry  for  bread! 

No  royal  blood  by  caste  or  creed, 
No  pride  of  place,  no  gild  of  gold 
Can  warm  the  weak,  accursed  with  cold, 

Or  light  the  awful  nights  of  need; 

Labor  alone  can  blessings  bring 

To  crown  the  brows  of  freedom's  brave; 

The  toiler  is  the  truest  king, 
The  idler  is  the  only  slave! 

But  laugh,  O,  Labor,  dry  thy  tears! 

A  better  day  is  drawing  nigh; 

Hope  brightens  all  the  somber  sky; 
The  golden  age  of  Love  is  near! 
Behold!     But  yonder  stands  a  Star! 

The  ancient  lies  are  downward  hurled; 
A  man — a  child — is  greater  far 

Than  all  the  wealth  of  all  the  world! 


'Love,   Thou   Gayest  Fancy -weaver"         47 


"  LOVE,  THOU  GAYEST  FANCY-WEAVER." 

LOVE,  thou  gayest  fancy-weaver, 
Heart-betrayer,  soul-deceiver, 
Come  with  all  thy  clinging  kisses; 
Bringing  all  thy  beaming  blisses; 
It  may  serve  the  cynic's  parts, 

If  he  curse  and  if  he  scout  thee, 
But,  O,  where  were  gentle  hearts, 
If  they  had  to  live  without  thee! 

Weave  the  spells  of  thy  beguiling 
'Round  and  'round  me  with  thy  smiling, 
Till  the  ashen  cheek  is  beaming, 
And  the  faded  eye  is  gleaming; 
Millions  may  endure  the  fight 

In  the  battle  vain  to  end  thee, 
But  when  taste  they  thy  delight 

They  will  serve  thee  and  defend  thee. 


Bring  thy  little  winsome  graces 
And  the  sweets  of  glad  embraces, 
Till  the  pleasures  all  are  dancing 
Into  mazy  whirls  entrancing; 


48  Oklahoma. 

It  may  please  the  icy  breast 

To  despise  thee  and  distress  thee, 

But  the  burning  hearts  find  rest 

When  they  bless  thee  and  caress  thee. 

Send  thy  gladness,  laughing  rover, 
All  my  sorrows  o'er  and  over, 
Till  the  strains  of  happy  pleasure 
Mingle  in  melodious  measure; 
It  may  give  a  transient  glee 

To  condemn  thy  ways  and  sever, 
But  the  sweets  of  melody 

Thou  wilt  murmur  on  torever. 

Bind  my  heart  in  silken  chaining, 
Till  from  thee  is  none  remaining; 
Clothe  my  soul  in  glad  completeness 
Of  thy  happiness  and  sweetness; 
When  the  times  are  true,  the  soul 

May  not  hunger  for  thy  gladness, 
But  when  surging  sorrows  roll 

Thou  alone  shalt  banish  sadness. 


The  Fanner.  49 


THE  FARMER. 

LET  nations  encircle  the  brows  of  the  brave 
With  glory  the  greatest  that  glitters  below, 
Who  make  in   the  blood   of  the  battle  a  grave 
For  all  that  are  found  in  the  ranks  of  the  foe; 
But  I  from  the  greatness,  the    grandeur,  and  gleam, 

Would  turn  to  the  light  of  clear-glowing  hearth, 

And  choose   from  his  joy  for  the   soul  'of  my  theme 

The  farmer,  the  lord  and  the  king  of  the  earth. 

Let  millions  give  worship  to  riches  and  wealth, 

That  gay  in  their  brilliancy  sparkle  and  gleam, 
And  serve  with  the  hands  of  their  happiest  health 

The  haughty  who  idle  and  revel  and  dream; 
In  hall  or  in  hamlet,  in  cottage  or  cave, 

Or  sickened  with  sorrow  or  maddened  with  mirth. 
There's   none  I  shall   serve  with  the   will  of  a  slave 

But  the  farmer,  the  lord  and  the  king  of  the  earth. 


Let  poets  in  praises  heart-swelling  and  sweet 
With  rapture  that  rises  in  beautiful  song, 

Make  sages  immortal  and  ages  replete 

With  hundreds  of  heroes  who  wrestled  the  wrong; 


50  Oklahoma. 

All  honest  men  well  from  the  Muses  may  claim 
The  numbers  that  murmur  to  merit  and  worth, 

And  so  I  would  fold  in  the  mantles  of  fame 
The  farmer,  the  lord  and  the  king  of  the  earth. 

Let  orators  over  the  deeds  of  the  great 

Re-echo  the  tributes  of  tenderest  praise, 
And  over  the  ashes  that  slumber  in  state 

Let  peoples   their  marbles  and  monuments  raise; 
But  I,  from  the  frenzied  applauses  uncouth, 

To  those  who  are  chained  in  the  bondage  of  birth, 
Would  flee  to  surround  with  the  lilies  of  truth 

The  farmer,  the  lord  and  the  king  of  the  earth. 

Let  hearts  that  are  grateful  in  gratitude  crown 

The  friend  of  the  many  and  foe  of  the  few; 
Let  souls  in  their  secret  admiring  enthrone 

Whatever  a  martyr  or  minion  may  do; 
But  down  in  my  bosom  while  reasonings  reign, 

Of  friendship  and  love  there  is  never  a  dearth 
For  him  who  is  toiling  in  pleasure  or  pain, 

The  farmer,  the  lord  and  the  king  of  the  earth. 


'Nature  has  a    Thousand  Choirs"          51 


"NATURE    HAS  A    THOUSAND    CHOIRS." 

NATURE  has  a  thousand  choirs 
Singing  in  the  sylvan  shadows, 
And  the  music  of  her  lyres 
Echoes  in  the  merry  meadows; 
Always  glad  with  golden  glee 
Sounds  her  happy  melody, 
Swelling  wild  in  fairy  measure 
With  the  songs  of  purest  pleasure. 


Where  the  dancing  fountains  play 
Winding  warbles  shake  and  shiver, 

And  soft  carols  rise  alway 

From  the  ripples  of  the  river; 

Sweetest  voices  fondly  call 

From  the  fleecy  waterfall, 

And  the  joyful  chimes  are  creeping 

Where  the  lovely  lake  is  sleeping. 

Raptures  echo  in  the  wood, 
Where  the  pimpernel  reposes; 

Gladness  fills  the  solitude 

Where  the  blushes  kiss  the  roses; 


52  Oklahoma. 

Sunny  beam  and  somber  gloom 
Utter  hymns  from  bowers  of  bloom, 
Where  the  vernal  winds  are  crying 
And  the  vocal  birds  are  flying. 

O'er  the  smiling  scenes  of  earth 

Nature  throws  no  sullen  weather; 
All  her  soul  is  full  of  mirth, 

Song  and  springtime  walk  together; 
For  the  harps  of  happy  days 
Wake  the  woodlands  with  their  lays, 
And  where  lilies  white  are  springing 
Gentle  melodies  are  ringing. 

O,  wild  Nature,  from  thy  soul 

Fill  the  human  hearts  with  gladness, 
Till  their  lives  shall  gladly  troll 

Songs  that  banish  all  their  sadness  ! 
Bathe  their  breasts  with  songs  of  love 
From  the  Edens  found  above, 
Till  their  lips  shall  sing  the  story 
Of  their  happiness  and  glory  ! 


The    Workingman.  53 


THE  WORKINGMAN. 

GOD  bless  the  brawny  arms  of  toil, 
The  noble  hearts  and  royal  hands, 
That  plow  the  plain  and  seed  the  soil, 
And  grow  the  grains  of  laughing  lands  ! 
King  in  the  blessed  vales  of  life 

Where  perfect  pleasures  first  began, 

May  blessings  come  with  raptures  rife 

To  crown  the  humble  workingman  ! 

His  kingdoms  wave  with  bannered  corn 

And  meadows  bright  with  fairy  bloom, 
While  duties  of  his  heart  are  born 

Where  sylvan  shadows  hide  the  gloom; 
Sweet  Nature  fills  his  heart  with  health, 

While  rustic  warbles  lead  his  soul 
Where  rill  and  fountain  sing  by  stealth 

And  breezes  soft  with  music  roll. 


He  lives  where  simple  wishes  throng, 
And  give  contentment  to  his  breast, 

While  tender  lullabies  of  song 
Bring  angel  gladness  to  his  rest; 


09 

IUHI7BRSIT7 


54  Oklahoma. 

No  praises  linger  o'er  his  name 
Where  he  in  silence  works  apart, 

And  honor  never  links  with  fame 
The  modest  glories  of  his  heart. 

He  needs  no  kiss  of  royal  crown 

To  wield  the  axe  or  guide  the  plow, 
Or  woo  the  smiles  of  heaven  down 

To  cling  in  clusters  on  his  brow; 
But  in  the  sacred  shine  of  love, 

With  humble  deeds  he  lives  his  days, 
And,  drinking  from  the  founts  above, 

He  scatters  gladness  o'er  his  ways. 

Proud  monarch  of  the  tattered  vest, 

Thy  toil  is  fraught  with  greater  gains 
Than  his  that  bleeds  where  warrior  crest 

Slays  thousands  on  the  battled  plains  ! 
Thy  duty  prompts  to  build,  to  grow, 

The  forest  fell,  the  city  plan 
And  scatter  seeds  of  love  below, 

Where'er  thou  art,  O,  workingman! 


Giving  and  Forgiving.  55 


GIVING  AND  FORGIVING. 

not  by  selfish  miser's  greed 
The  great  rewards  of  love  are  given; 
Tis  not  the  cynic's  haughty  creed 
Which  gladly  makes  this  world  a  heaven; 
But  tender  word  and  loving  deed 

Increase  the  angel  joys  of  living, 
And  mortals  gain  life's  grandest  meed 
By  acts  of  giving  and  forgiving. 

Let  warriors  bold  with  armies  fight 

Their  awful  battles  brave  and  gory, 
To  reap  the  harvest  of  their  might 

And  fill  a  gaping  world  with  glory! 
The  humble  heroes,  out  of  sight, 

Where  hidden  tears  and  woes  are  striving, 
Win  victories  for  truth  and  right 

By  deeds  of  giving  and  forgiving. 


Let  mighty  kings  of  loyal  lands 
Despise  the  faithful  sons  of  duty, 

And  with  the  swords  of  vandal  hands 
Destroy  the  homes  of  joy  and  beauty; 


56  Oklahoma. 

The  honest  lords  of  low  commands 
Will  find  a  nobler  way  of  thriving, 

In  lonely  vales  where  sorrow  stands, 
By  sweets  of  giving  and  forgiving. 

Let  rich  men  with  their  heaps  of  gold 

Be  servants  of  the  shining  splendor, 
And  crush  the  bosom,  poor  and  old, 

That  lives  by  mercies  pure  and  tender; 
But  still  the  soul  with  saints  enrolled 

Will  keep  its  charity  surviving, 
And  have  its  humble  glory  told 

In  tales  of  giving  and  forgiving. 

O,  helping  hands  and  Christian  hearts, 

Twin  parents  of  the  race's  gladness, 
God  speed  the  time  when  your  sweet  arts 

Shall  banish  every  sign  of  sadness  ! 
When  mournful  cries,  when  pain's  wild  darts, 

Shall  cease  to  curse  the  days  of  living, 
And  Heaven's  love  to  man  imparts 

The  joys  of  giving  and  forgiving. 


O  Sacred  Souls  that  Grandly  Sing. ' '        57 


"O,   SACRED  SOULS  THAT   GRANDLY 
SING." 

0  SACRED  souls  that  grandly  sing 
The  secret  songs  of  human  hearts, 
Where  your  wild  music  madly  starts, 
The  sorrows  into  raptures  spring  ! 
Within  the  warbles  of  your  chimes 
Man  reads  the  longings  of  his  days, 
And  finds,  amid  your  lofty  lays, 
Glad  music  for  his  gloomy  times. 

How  sweet  the  mute,  melodious  cries 
Which  only  lives  like  yours  may  hear, 
Where  pleasures  thrill  the  singer's  ear 

With  laughing  strains  of  lullabies  ! 

You  know  soft  voices,  rich  with  love, 
That  mingle  in  the  fields  and  woods, 
To  bless  the  silent  solitudes 

With  carols  coming  from  above. 

Your  golden  harps  resound  alway, 

Where  valley  bound  with  blossom  lies, 
And  rugged  mountains  highest  rise, 

And  silver  fountains  softly  play  ; 


58  Oklahoma. 

While  in  the  gladness  of  your  songs 
The  fainting  bosoms  hope  again, 
And  toil  among  their  fellow  men, 

Forgetful  of  their  ancient  wrongs. 

You  sport  with  singing  meadows  bright, 
With  fragrant  winds  and  scented  gales, 
Where  shine  and  shadow  kiss  the  vales 

In  fairy  fondness  of  delight  ; 

For  where  the  meads  and  forests  blend, 
The  sweetest  songs  of  life  are  found, 
And  where  the  lonely  hills  abound 

The  soul  of  music  meets  a  friend. 

Glad  hearts  that  warble  songs  divine, 
Sweet  singers  of  a  mourning  race, 
The  ages  long  your  brows  shall  grace 

With  crowns  where  bays  and  laurels  twine  ! 

For  man  the  grandest  garland  brings, 
To  bless  the  tender  lives  that  tell, 
And  with  their  mystic  music  swell, 

The  lays  that  Nature  fondly  sings  ! 


Christmas    Time.  59 


CHRISTMAS    TIME. 

HOW  sweet  the  brazen  belfries  chime 
Across  the  hills  and  through  the  dales. 
And  o'er  the  breasts  of  meadowed  vales, 
Beneath  the  smiles  of  Christmas  time  ! 
Rough  sorrow's  thorny  fingers  grow 
As  soft  and  waxen  as  a  child's, 
And  balmy  pleasures  o'er  the  wilds 
Chant  music  to  the  drifting  snow. 

Ah,  scattered  locks  that  fringe  my  face, 

With  wintry  wisps  of  white  and  gray  ! 

Ah,  sad,  dimmed  eyes  that  look  away 
To  artless  childhood's  tender  grace  ! 
To-night  those  years  with  joys  sublime 

Steal  over  me  and  fill  my  soul 

With  lullabies  of  bliss  that  roll 
The  golden  glees  of  Christmas  time. 

Again  I  live  in  wondrous  days, 

When  baby  hands  with  chubby  glee 
Plucked  gladness  from  the  loaded  tree 

Where  loving  burdens  bent  the  sprays  ; 


60  Oklahoma. 

The  sunny  songs  of  that  sweet  clime 
Sing  softly  in  my  soul  again, 
Till  I  forget  the  ways  of  men 

And  laugh  and  shout  at  Christmas  time. 

Angelic  joys  that  died  in  pain, 

Sweet  raptures  from  the  days  of  bliss, 
Your  loving  lips  with  clinging  kiss 

Thrill  all  my  heart  and  soul  and  brain  ; 

And  turning  from  my  weary  rhyme 
To  count  my  sorrows  o'er  and  o'er, 
I'd  give  my  life  to  know  once  more 

Those  wondrous  days  of  Christmas  time. 

Ring,  laughing  bells,  ring  out  to-night ! 

From  happy  years  that  now  are  fled, 

You  bring  the  faces  of  the  dead, 
And  bless  me  with  a  deep  delight  ! 
Away,  away,  these  thoughts  of  men, 

These  toils  of  mine,  that  sadness  give  ; 

My  heart  grows  young  and  I  would  live 
My  Christmas  pleasures  o'er  again  ! 


Truest  Heroes  are   Unknown.  61 


TRUEST  HEROES  ARE  UNKNOWN. 

ALL  worthies  are  not  sung  in  song, 
That  live  their  lives  and  do  their  deeds 
Where  wounded  nature  writhes  and  bleeds 
Beneath  the  savage  blows  of  wrong  ; 
From  humble  duties  tender  grown, 
The  truest  heroes  are  unknown. 

The  heart  that  toils  where  none  may  know 
And  uncomplaining  conquers  care, 
To  save  his  loved  ones  or  to  spare 

His  fellows  from  the  pangs  of  woe, 

Is  more  the  hero  than  who  shields 

His  country  on  the  bleeding  fields. 

He  claims  no  praises  for  his  love, 
He  seeks  no  tribute  for  his  worth, 
But  sows  the  desert  hearts  of  earth 

With  blossoms  from  the  vales  above  ; 

And  in  their  sunshine  warm  and  bright 

He  holds  these  duties  as  his  right. 

Where  lives  are  dark  with  dismal  groans 
Great  men  are  often  chained  by  fate, 
And  oft  are  slaves  more  truly  great 

Than  princes  on  their  purple  thrones  ; 


62  Oklahoma. 

But  servant  brows  are  bound  with  shame, 
While  monarchs  flutter  into  fame. 

Deeds  pure  and  noble,  gladly  done, 
Unselfish  work  for  sickly  souls 
When  sorrow  in  black  surges  rolls 
And  gloomy  darkness  hides  the  sun, — 
These  in  their  truth  make  more  the  man 
Than  royal  aim  or  princely  plan. 

But  sometime  man  shall  rule  by  thought, 
And  worth  shall  gain  her  just  return, 
Till  all  shall  every  singer  spurn 
Who  in  the  ancient  cycles  taught 
That  heroes  rest  in  royal  graves, 
But  never  in  the  tombs  of  slaves. 


IF  WE    BUT  KNEW. 

IF  we  but  knew  the  weary  way, 
The  poisoned  paths  of  hostile  hate, 
The  roughened  roads  of  fiercest  fate, 
Through  which  our  brother's  journey  lay, 
Would  we  condemn,  as  now  we  do, 
His  faults  and  failures, — if  we  knew  ? 


If  We  But  Knew.  63 

Would  we  forget  the  shadows  grim, 
The  lonely  hours  of  grief  and  pain, 
The  follies  dead,  the  pleasures  slain, 

The  tears  and  toils  that  hindered  him, 

And  only  prize  the  deeds  that  grew 

To  mighty  conquest,  if  we  knew  ? 


Would  careless  hand  sow  tares  of  strife, 
Amid  the  blooms  of  happy  care, 
And  plant,  in  spite  of  sigh  and  prayer, 
Wild  thorns  amid  the  blameless  life, 
Till  sorrows  rule  the  nations  through, 
With  scarce  a  rival,  if  we  knew  ? 

Would  we  be  quicker  with  our  praise, 
And  gladly  give  the  greatest  meeds 
As  recompense  for  noble  deeds, 
And  heroes  crown  with  brightest  bays, 
And  slay  all  foes  that  hearts  imbue 
With  doubt  and  weakness,  if  we  knew? 

From  lofty  kings  would  constant  worth 
On  peasant  brows  their  crowns  bestow, 
And  rising  from  her  overthrow 
Eternal  justice  rule  the  earth, 
While  right  would  strip  the  favored  few 
To  bless  the  many,  if  we  knew  ? 


64  Oklahoma. 

If  we  but  knew  !     Ah,  well-a-day  ! 
From  lives  that  murmur,  full  of  ills, 
Behind  the  shadows  of  the  hills, 

God  hides  our  brother's  heart  away; 

And  we  shall  know  in  vales  of  rest 

That  His  eternal  ways  are  best  ! 


HOPE. 

WHEN  man  from  pure  perfection  fell, 
And  bathed  his  life  in  grief  and  woe, 
His  angel  heart  had  overthrow 
From  all  the  joys  he  loved  so  well, 
And  only  Hope  of  all  the  host 
Remained  to  comfort  him  when  lost. 

And  when  the  other  passions  throw 
Their  phantoms  in  the  arms  of  death, 
And  pour  their  last  remaining  breath 

Within  the  dismal  haunts  of  woe, 

Then  Hope  alone  of  all  remains 

To  soothe  our  sorrows  and  our  pains. 

Hope  makes  the  fearful  millions  brave, 
The  helpless  and  the  weary  strong, 
Gives  courage  to  the  fainting  throng 

And  whispers  freedom  to  the  slave, 


Hope.  65 

And  unto  each,  where'er  he  lives, 
Unceasing  cause  to  struggle  gives. 

In  heavy  hours  of  ghostly  gloom 
When  raging  billows  dash  and  beat 
Around  the  weak  and  weary  feet 

Which  tremble  on  the  yawning  tomb, 

The  harp  of  Hope  divinely  sings 

Exalted  songs  of  better  things. 

It  lifts  the  gaze  of  mortal  eyes 
Above  the  desert  and  the  dearth, 
Above  the  barren  fields  of  earth, 

Unto  the  promise  of  the  skies, 

And  to  the  last  expiring  breath 

Gives  comfort  in  the  hour  of  death. 

O,  sacred  light  of  human  life, 
Eternal  star  of  Heaven's  love, 
Thy  brightness  ever  shines  above 

The  darkest  hours  of  woe  and  strife, 

To  raise  our  souls  above  the  sod 

Into  the  holy  home  of  God  ! 


66  Oklahoma. 


0 


DESPONDENCY. 

GLOOMY  world  that  rolls  in  weary  space, 
.     And  moans  wild  music  to  the  broken  spheres, 


Whose  rivers  wander  into  seas  of  tears, 
Despair  has  bound  thee  in  a  close  embrace; 
A  birth,  a  life,  a  death;  man  is  no  more  ! 

Death  grows  beside  existence,  and  with  time 
Is  comrade  of  its  changes;  cycles  roll 
Their  heavy  circles  through  the  human  soul, 

And  pour  their  dirges  into  mournful  rhyme; 
A  birth,  a  life,  a  death;  man  is  no  more  ! 

He  gropes  in  shadows  for  a  happy  beam 
That  shall  delight  his  bosom;  into  mist 
Dissolves  the  substance  that  ambition  kissed, 

While  greatness  grows  the  garland  of  a  dream; 
A  birth,  a  life,  a  death;  man  is  no  more  ! 

Endeavor  struggles  to  an  open  grave; 
The  past  is  lost  in  monumental  dust, 
Where  age  on  age  in  angry  ire  has  thrust 

The  wise,  the  strong,  the  mighty,  and  the  brave; 
A  birth,  a  life,  a  death;  man  is  no  more ! 


Despondency.  67 

The  years  are  shades  that  totter  from   their  tombs, 
The  ages,  ghosts  that  live  in  catacombs 
And  lure  the  Present  to  their  awful  homes, 

Where  ancient  races  wander  in  the  glooms; 
A  birth,  a  life,  a  death;  man  is  no  more  ! 

Oblivion  welcomes  men  with  gentle  arms, 
And  presses  them  like  infants  to  her  breast, 
Repeats  to  them  her  lullabies  of  rest, 

And  guards  them  from  ail  sorrows  and  alarms; 
A  birth,  a  life,  a  death;  man  is  no  more  ! 

Then  hasten,  world,  and  let  my  battle  cease; 

I  care  not  where  I  stay  nor  when  I  go; 

For  action  gives  unhappiness  and  woe, 
But  Lethe  brings  forgetfulness  and  peace; 

A  birth,  a  life,  a  death;  man  is  no  more  ! 


68  Oklahoma, 


IF  LOVE  WERE  KING. 

IF  Love  were  king, 
That    sacred    Love    which    knows    not    selfish 

pleasure, 
But  for  its  children  spends  its  fondest  treasure, 

Sad  hearts  would  sing, 
And  all  the  hosts  of  misery  and  wrong 
Forget  their  anguish  in  the  happy  song 
That  joy  would  bring. 

If  Love  were  king, 

Gaunt  wickedness  would  hide  his   loathsome   feat 
ures, 
And  virtue  would  to  all  the  world's  sad  creatures 

Her  treasures  fling; 

Till  drooping  souls  would  rise  above  their  fate, 
And  find  sweet  flowers  for  all  the  desolate 

And  sorrowing. 

If  Love  were  king, 

Before  the  scepter  of  his  might  should  vanish 
Toil's  curse  and  care,  and  happiness  should  banish 

Want's    awful  sting; 

While  laughing  plenty  from  sweet  hands  would  throw 
Delightful  raptures  over  all  below, 

And  gladness  bring. 


"Sing  me  the   Old  Songs,  Mother."          69 

If  Love  were  king, 

The  nations  would  eternal  sunshine  borrow, 
And  conquer  all  the  heavy  clouds  of  sorrow 

And  every  thing 

That  binds  the  race  in  groans  and  agony; 
Life's  changing  seasons  would  forever  be 

Unvaried  spring. 

If  Love  were  king! 

O,  broken  feet  that  wander  worn  and  weary 
Beneath  the  crags  and  awful  mountains  dreary, 

With  rapture  cling 

Your  anguished  arms  about  him;  drink  delight 
Upon  his  perfect  bosom  soft  and  white 

And  comforting! 


SING    ME    THE    OLD    SONGS,  MOTHER." 

OUR  souls  are  the  deserts  of  sorrow, 
Our  hearts  are  the  ashes  of  hope, 
And  madly  from  gladness  we  borrow 
The  brightness  where  sadness  may  grope; 
My  raptures  in  wretchedness  vanish, 
My  bosom  is  weeping  with  wrongs; 
Then  sing  me  the  old  songs,  mother, 
Then  sing  me  the  dear  old  songs. 


yo  Oklahoma. 

My  joys  are  in  memory  lying, 

Still  ardently  happy  with  youth, 
When  smiles  in  ambition  were  dying, 

And  life  was  the  vision  of  youth; 
My  brow  for  your  gentle  caresses 

And  kisses  of  tenderness  longs; 
Then  sing  me  the  old  songs,  mother, 

Then  sing  me  the  dear  old  songs. 

Sweet  murmurs  in  mystical  measures 

Come  soothingly  over  my  soul, 
Where  voices  of  babyish  pleasures 

And  echoes  of  lullabies  roll; 
The  struggles  of  all  my  endeavor 

Are  bound  in  the  darkest  of  thongs; 
Then  sing  me  the  old  songs,  mother, 

Then  sing  me  the  dear  old  songs. 

I  fain  would  return  in  my  dreaming 

To  years  that  proclaimed  me  a  boy, 
When  gladness  was  happily  beaming 

And  life  was  a  musical  toy; 
My  sorrow  has  never  Nepenthe, 

My  woe  in  its  bitterness  throngs; 
Then  sing  me  the  old  songs,  mother, 

Then  sing  me  the  dear  old  songs. 


T 


Two  Lives.  71 


TWO  LIVES. 

WO  infants  in  their  cradles  lie, 
Where  lullabies  of  peace 
In  gentle    strains  of  tender  music  die. 
And  carols  never  cease. 


Two  urchins  o'er  the  meadow  lands 

Are  bounding  in  their  plays, 
Where  sweet  enjoyment    with  angelic  hands 

Winds  gladness  o'er  the  days. 

Two  boys,  where  golden   fancies  bless, 

Repose  in  sunny  beams, 
And  muse  away  the  hours  of  happiness 

On  couches  made  of  dreams. 

Two  men  upon  a  summer  sea 

Are  toiling,  brave  and  strong, 
Where  pleasures  roll  their  elfin  harmony 

And  labor  ends  in  song. 

Two  gray-haired  sages,  silvered  o'er, 

In  life  meet  once  again, 
To  name  the  wondrous  happiness  they  bore 

Among  their  fellow-men. 


72  Oklahoma. 

Two  graves  forever  hide  the  twain 
Who  found,  in  all  their  years, 

No  secret  shadows,  where  unbroken  pain 
Held  fountains  full  of  tears. 

Two  lives  have  passed  from  human  reach, 
And  few  have  heard  of  them, 

But  joy  had  not  been  better  served  if  each 
Had  worn  a  diadem. 

Ah,  bosoms  here  are  strangely  blest 
With  perfect  bliss  that  glows, 

And  he  above  all  others  lives  the  best, 
Who  has  the  fewest  woes! 


AWAY,  AWAY,  FROM  THE  SULTRY 
WAYS." 


A 


WAY,  away,  from  the  sultry  ways 

Where  the  pleasures  fall  and  fade, 
To  the  bannered   corn    and    the    meadowed 

bloom 
And  the  forest's  cooling  shade  ! 

Afar,  afar,  from  the  rooms  of  care 

With  the  toils  of  life  distressed, 
To  the  grassy  hills  and  the  fragrant  slopes 

And  the  quiet  vales  of  rest  ! 


" Away ',  Away \  from  the  Sultry  Ways"      73 

Away  from  the  weary,  dusty  town. 

Where  the  sorrows  dim  the  days, 
To  the  sleeping  lake  and  the  silent  stream 

And  the  wildwood's  tangled  ways  ! 

To  margins  wide  of  the  woodland  pools, 
Where  the  wild  birds  troll  their  songs, 

Where  the  lilies  laugh  and  the  willows  wave, 
And  the  pleasures  dance  in  throngs  ! 

The  dark-eyed  nymphs  and  the  fairy  elves 

In  their  robes  of  laughing  smiles, 
In  the  forests  romp  'neath  the  leafy  trees, 

Through  the  narrow  long-drawn  aisles. 

The  bannered  corn  and  the  golden  wheat 

In  the  ties  of  bliss  are  bound; 
The  sweetest  joys  and  highest  hopes 

On  the  shady  farms  are  found. 

The  raptures  reign  in  the  holy  scenes, 
And  the  old  grow  young  once  more, 

To  roam  the  meadows  and  live  again 
In  the  happy  years  of  yore. 

Then  haste,  O,  haste,  to  the  country  downs, 
Where  the  valleys  are  sweet  with  joys, 

And  the  soul  grows  young,  and  the  heart  is  light, 
And  the  bosom  is  like  a  boy's  ! 


74  Oklahoma. 


SPINSTERHOOD. 

ALONE,  alone,  in  the  twilight  gray, 
In  the  shadows  so  dark  and  dim, 
I  watch  through  all  of  the  weary  hours, 
And  I  wait  with  my  heart  for  him; 
For  him  who'll  come,  when  he  comes  at  all, 

As  my  king  and  warrior  bold; 
Whose  form  so  tall  is  my  fortress  wall 
And  whose  heart  is  a  chunk  of  gold. 


Again,  again,  do  I  dream  the  dreams, 

All  the  dreams  that  my  young  heart  knew, 
And  through  my  soul  do  the  yearnings  thrill 

As  of  old  they  were  wont  to  do; 
I  know  in  truth  when  his  face  I  see, 

I  shall  fall  at  his  shining  feet, 
Where'er  it  be  and  whoever  is  he, 

In  the  light  of  his  glances  sweet. 


I  wait  in  vain  for  the  sounds  that  rise 
From  the  tread  of  his  horse's  "hoof, 

And  still  the  mists  hide  his  form  away 
And  forever  he  stays  aloof; 


'  'Sweet  Fairies  from  the  hies  of  Song. ' J       75 

His  shining  face  and  his  eyes  so  bright 
In  the  shades  of  the  distance  hide, 

And  out  of  the  night  with  the  stars  bedight 
He  hath  never  approached  ray  side  ! 


O,  years,  O,  wonderful  tide  of  years, 

From  the  shadows  of  time  set  free 
My  king,  my  lover,  my  life,  and  bring 

To  my  heart  what  is  most  of  me  ! 
Somewhere  in  pain  do  his  yearnings  grope 

For  the  joys  that  my  love  would  bring; 
O,  up  the  slope  of  his  life-long  hope, 

Guide  the  feet  of  my  royal  king! 


SWEET  FAIRIES  FROM  THE  ISLES  OF 
SONG." 

ONWEET  fairies  from  the  isles  of  song, 
Vj     Bewitching  choirs  from  music  land, 

The  pleasures  of  your  wondrous  band 
Once  wooed  me  from  the  ways  of  wrong; 
Once  won  my  heart  with  fond  earess 
To  sacred  vales  of  summer  glees, 
Till  carols  fraught  with  lullabies 
.  Filled  all  my  soul  with  blessedness  ! 


7  6  Oklahoma. 

My  yearnings  miss  those  gentle  sprites, 
Whose  laughing  lips  and  angel  eyes 
And  voices  ever  winsome-wise, 

Bedewed  my  dreams  with  new  delights; 

For  in  the  sad  hours  of  my  pain 
I  hold  them  as  I  hold  the  dead, 
And  trust  that  in  the  vales  they  tread, 

My  hands  shall  clasp  their  hands  again. 

From  those  glad  meadows  where  they  play 
'Neath  lovely  sun  and  gentle  star, 
My  longing  soul  has  wandered  far 

On  rocky  path  and  thorny  way; 

I  croon  again  the  notes  of  song 

In  strains  they  taught  me  years  ago, 
And  weep  because  my  sorrows  know 

They  have  been  absent  for  so  long. 

Return,  O,  laughing  sprites  of  rest, 
From  gentle  isles  and  peaceful  seas, 
And  pour  the  balsamed  wine  of  ease 

Upon  the  anguish  of  my  breast  ! 

Till  gladness  in  her  raptures  roll 
Sweet  strains  of  music,  and  I  gain 
Eternal  joy  for  all  the  pain 

That  darkens  o'er  my  weary  soul ! 


Stanzas.  77 


STANZAS. 

GOD  bless  the  man  who  gave  us  reftt 
And  him  who  taught  us  play, 
For  kindness  reigned  within  his  breast 
To  all  our  sorrow  slay; 
The  weary  heart,  the  fainting  limb, 

The  soul  that  droops  in  woe, 
Should  most  unceasing  praise  on  him 
In  gratitude  bestow. 


He  is  the  hero  of  the  race, 

The  toiling  nation's  friend, 
For  pity  smiles  upon  his  face 

With  joys  that  never  end; 
He  tears  away  the  iron  gyves 

That  chain  our  best  repose, 
And  makes  the  deserts  of  our  lives 

To  blossom  as  the  rose. 


He  pours  his  balms  into  the  wound 
Of  bosom  weak  and  sad, 

Till  holy  pleasures  flit  around 
And  all  the  heart  is  glad; 


7  8  Oklahoma. 

Till  all  is  sweet  that  here  before 
Was  wrapped  in  bitter  woe, 

And  only  gladness  hurries  o'er 
The  millions  here  below. 

Great  man  he  is,  and  him  I  give 

That  gratitude  of  mine, 
Which  must  in  brilliance  while  I  live 

With  brightest  glory  shine, 
To  wreathe  a  radiance  always  gay 

Around  the  worthy  breast 
Of  him  who  first  discovered  play 

And  gave  the  nations  rest. 


MAKE  THE  MOST  OF  THIS  LIFE. 

MAKE  the   most  of  this   life;  where  the  shadow 
reposes 

The  beams  of  the  summer  shall  gather  in  glee, 

And  the  snow  on  the  graves  of  the  lilies  and  roses 

But  cradles  the  blooms  that  shall  whiten  the  lea; 

Though    the  hopes  of    the  heart  be    encircled   with 

sorrow 

And  billows  of  wretchedness  mutter  and  roll, 
There  shall    come  with    the  morn  of    the  bountiful 

morrow 
The  pleasures  that  gladden  the  desolate  soul. 


Make  the  Most  of  this  Life.  79 

Make    the  most  of   this  life;    where  the   carols   are 

sleeping 

That  rose  in  their  rapture  from  lips  of  the  spring, 

That  awakened  the  world  from  its  winter  of  weeping, 

Sweet   songs  shall    be  sung   by    the  birds  on    the 

wing. 

Though    the  bosom  be  dark  with  the  dirges  of  sad 
ness 

And  solitudes  gather  so  heavy  and  lone, 
There    shall    float    from   the    musical    meadows  of 

gladness 
The  ravishing    measures  that  banish   each  groan. 

Make  the  most  of  this  life;  'tis  a  garden  of  beauty, 

Where,   blushing,     the  blossoms    grow    tenderly 

sweet, 

While  they    brighten  the  years  of   man's  labor   and 
duty 

And  scatter  the  kisses  of  love  at  his  feet; 
'Tis  a  world  that  is  wild  with   the  laughter  of  living 

When  hands  do  the  brotherly   kindness  they  can, 
And  its  hearts  are  the  treasures  of  tenderness  giving 

To  soften  and  sweeten  the  nature  of  man. 


Make  the  most  of  this  life;  there  is  happiness  in  it, 
When  souls  find  a  theme  for  their  jubilant  song; 

There  is  music,  when  angels  are  taught  to  begin  it, 
Which  never  was  marred  with  a  murmur  of  wrong; 


80  Oklahoma. 

There  are  voices  tha*tsingin  their  sweetness  forever, 
And  mutter  no  strains  of  contention  or  strife, 

Neither  burden  the  hours  with  the  pangs  of  endeavor, 
When  we,  with  our  deeds,  make  the  most  of  this 
life. 


THE    SONGS  THAT    MOTHER  USED    TO 
SING." 

THE  songs  that  mother  used  to  sing! 
How  tenderly  those  ditties  rcll, 
And  to  the  dirges  in  my  soul 
The  happy  notes  of  gladness  bring! 
Where'er  my  vagrant  feet  may  roam 
From  pleasures  of  my  childhood's  home, 
This  life  of  mine  with  rapture  throngs, 
When  thinking  of  my  mother's  songs. 

They  were  not  made  of  magic  lays; 
No  perfect  melodies  were  found, 
That  with  the  strains  of  fairy  sound 

Would  charm  the  stranger's  ear  to  praise; 

But  I  can  never  hope  to  meet 

Another  music  half  so  sweet, 

And  all  my  longing  love  will  cling 

To  songs  that  mother  used  to  sing. 


"Quaff  the  Glass,  the    Wine  is  Red"       81 

With  gentleness  of  crooning  cries, 
She  freed  the  aching  limbs  from  pain, 
And  lulled  the  eyes  to  sleep  again 
With  sweetness  of  her  lullabies. 
Love  mingled  with  her  tender  voice 
In  tones  that  made  the  heart  rejoice, 
And  Heaven's  music  seemed  to  ring 
In  songs  that  mother  used  to  sing. 

Though  years  have  passed,  they  still  impart 
Glad  warbles  to  the  hours  of  woe, 
And  their  mute  carols  fondly  throw 

The  sacred  raptures  o'er  my  heart; 

Until  my  locks  are  thin  and  gray 

Deep  in  my  soul  will  sound  alway, 

And  full  of  joy  will  ever  spring 

The  songs  that  mother  used  to  sing. 


11  QUAFF  THE  GLASS,  THE  WINE  IS  RED." 

QUAFF  the  glass,  the  wine  is  red, 
And  the  rose  of  youth  is  glowing, 
While  the  toils  of  life  are  fled 
And  the  snows  of  age  are  going; 
Quaff  it  with  a  hearty  will, 

Quaff  it  deep  and  quaff  forever; 
Wine  will  every  sorrow  kill, 

And  destroy  the  pleasures  never. 


82  Oklahoma. 

When  the  heart  beats  sad  and  low, 

Drink  its  gladness  like  a  river; 
When  the  soul  is  weak  with  woe. 

Quaff  and  be  a  cheerful  liver; 
Never,  never,  life,  despair, 

While  a  cup  of  hope  is  nigh  thee; 
Bend  not  under  loads  of  care 

While  the  fount  of  joy  is  by  thee! 

If  the  fickle  friendships  end 

And  thy  fortune  be  a  sad  one, 
Claim,  O,  claim,  as  truest  friend, 

Ruby  wine,  the  sweet  and  glad  one! 
If  thy  love  hath  proven  cold, 

Leave  her,  leave  her,  for  the  new  one; 
Wine  is  never  false  for  gold; 

Friend  to  friend,  a  tried  and  true  one! 

Let  the  cynics  curse  and  rave; 

This  must  be  a  life  of  pleasure; 
Fill  a  bumper!     He's  the  knave 

Who  would  scorn  joy's  fullest  measure; 
Quaff  the  glass,  the  wine  is  red; 

Hour  by  hour  the  days  are  going; 
Wine  is  >et  the  fountain  head 

From  which  pleasure's  tide  is  flowing 


Good-night.  83 


GOOD-NIGHT. 

GOOD  NIGHT,  my  little  love,  good-night! 
May  angels  keep 
With  fondest  watch  thy  slumbers,  till  the  light 

Shall  break  thy  sleep, 
And  morning  with  its  wonders  bright 
Shall  banish  all  thy  cares  with  might. 

Within  this  quickened  life  of  mine, 

I  bear  away 
The  loving  looks  and  tender  words  of  thine, 

Which  from  this  day 
Within  my  soul  shall  ever  shine 
And  make  me  better,  more  divine. 

With  love  and  trust  and  truth,  my  heart 

Beats  all  for  thee; 
And  though  our  lives  may  wander  far  apart, 

Till  death's  decree 

Shall  pierce  my  hopes  with  deadly  dart, 
Thou  still  my  star  of  guidance  art. 

Good-night,  dear  one!     As  gladdest  songs, 

The  sweetest  dreams 
Fill  all  my  happy  soul  in  joyous  throngs, 

And  tender  themes 

s&^<^ 

0? 


UIIVIBSITr] 


84  Oklahoma. 

Bring  bliss  for  which  my  nature  longs, 
And  slay  the  curse  of  ancient  wrongs. 


Good-night,  my  little  love  !     In  care 

Of  Heaven  rest, 
And  may  thy  life  no  deeper  sorrow  share 

Than  love's  behest, 
Beneath  the  smiles  of  raptures  rare  ! 
Good-night  !     God  keep  thee  everywhere  ! 


LIVE  LIFE  WITH  LOVE. 

HpHERE  is  no  soul  of  anguish  or  repining, 
J[       That  doubts  and  trembles  in  the  shades    of 

gloom, 

But  love  can  lead  where  softest  suns  are  shining 
And  fill  his  days  with  beauty  and  its  bloom. 
Live  life  with  love! 

There  is  no  bosom  dark  with  lonely  caring, 
That  sadly  sorrows  in  the  nights  of  woe, 

But  love  can  soothe  his  torture  and  despairing, 
And  scatter  gladness  where  his  feet  may  go. 
Live  life  with  love! 


Live  Life  with  Love.  85 

There  is  no  scene  of  misery  or  sorrow 

That  droops  and  withers  in  the  dark  of  night, 

But  love  can  bring  fond  yearnings  for  the  morrow 
And  heap  the  heart  with  hope's  unfading  light. 
Live  life  with  love! 

There  is  in  all  the  world  no  sinful  creature 
That  gropes  and  falters  on  his  troubled  way, 

But  love  can  overcome  his  erring  nature, 
And  change  his  darkness  to  eternal  day. 
Live  life  with  love! 

Sweet  love,  with  bounties  that  her  hands  are  giving, 
Can  blossom  roses  on  the  desert  heath, 

Can  brighten  all  the  longings  of  the  living 

And  with  found  kisses  warm  the  lips  of  death. 
Live  life  with  love! 

As  love  is  thine,  so  shall  thy  days  be  sweeter 
With  all  the  deeds  that  shall  thy  fellows  bless; 

Thy  small  achievements  nobler  and  completer 
With  truth  and  hope  and  highest  happiness! 
Live  life  with  love! 


86  Oklahoma. 


DISCONTENT. 

THE  sun  comes  up  in  the  east 
And  the  sun  goes  down  in  the  west, 
And  man  to  me  is  a  heartless  beast 
And  the  world  has  only  a  savage  breast. 

How  thoughts  rush  over  my  soul 
As  the  waves  walk  over  the  sea  ! 

Their  forms  flee  soon  and  the  sorrows  roll 
In  the  deep  distress  that  is  over  me. 

How  hopes  arise  in  my  heart, 

As  the  roses  bloom  over  the  plain! 

But  time  is  tearing  their  sweets  apart 

And  they  die  in  darkness  and  awful  pain. 

Ambitions  burn  in  my  breast, 

As  the  fires  in  a  city  rage; 
But  damp  creeps  over  their  fervid  zest 

And  they  sink  away  into  ashen  age. 

If  there  was  pleasure  for  pain 

I  could  well  be  happy  awhile, 
And,  O,  my  bosom  would  ne'er  complain, 

If  my  fortune  gave  me  a  single  smile. 


o 


Stanzas.  87 

But  here  I  am,  and  the  curse  is  on, 

And  my  life  is  a  waste  of  woe, 
And  ere  one  river  of  tears  is  gone, 

O,  another  torrent  begins  to  flow. 

Ah,  the  sun  comes  up  in  the  east 
And  the  sun  goes  down  in  the  west, 

And  man  to  me  is  a  heartless  beast 

And  the  world  has  only  a  savage  breast! 


STANZAS. 

PUT  not  trust  nor  tenderness  to  sleep, 

In  sorrow  sad; 

The  heart,  in  which  a  little  love  may  creep, 
Is  not  all  bad. 


The  darkest  hours  that  wear  a  wondrous  gloom. 

Are  somewhat  light, 
If  but  one  ray  of  brilliancy  illume 

The  brooding  night. 

The  field  in  which  the  weed  and  bramble  thrive 

Has  some  of  good, 
If  but  a  single  blossom  struggling  live 

Amid  the  rude. 


88  Oklahoma. 

The  ocean  vast  is  not  all  desolate, 
The  worlds  between, 

If  on  its  waters  bearing  human  freight 
One  sail  is  seen. 

All  is  not  harsh  and  cold  amid  the  wood, 

If  warbled  song 
Resound,  how  feebly,  through  the  solitude 

Of  tangled  wrong. 

The  desert,  barren,  bleak,  a  waste  of  sand 
Does  never  spread, 

If  spear  of  grass  in  verdure  green  expand 
Above  the  dead. 

Then  put  not  trust  nor  tenderness  to  sleep 

In  sorrow  sad; 
The  heart  in  which  a  little  love  may  creep 

Is  not  all  bad. 


The    Way  of  the    World.  89 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD. 

SINCE  Adam's  first  sin  in  the  garden  of  song, 
Where  the  hopes  of  the  race  were  empearled, 
Whenever  a  mortal  does  anything  wrong, 
It  is  only  the  way  of  the  world! 

If  statesmen  forget  all  the  pledges  they  made, 
And  the  people  to  evils  are  hurled, — 

Excuse  their  misdeeds!     'Tis  a  trick  of  the  trade, 
And  is  only  the  way  of  the  world! 

If  bankers,  confusing  distinctions  of  wealth, 
Have  your  gold  to  their  own  pockets  whirled, 

And  then  gone  to  Europe  for  pleasure  and  health — 
It  is  only  the  way  of  the  world. 

If  preachers,  forgetting  the  Master  of  old 
And  th«  banner  of  light  He  unfurled, 

Elope  with  the  fairest  ewe-lambs  of  the  fold, — 
It  is  only  the  way  of  the  world. 

If  merchants,  unscrupulous,  cheat  with  a  will 
While  their  lips  are  at  honesty  curled, — 

Harsh  blame,  hie  away!  And  your  censure,  be  still! 
It  is  only  the_way  of  the  world! 


QO  Oklahoma. 

The  way  of  the  world!     What  a  happy  excuse 
For  the  faults  and  the  follies  unfurled! 

Bind  virtue  securely!     The  vices  turn  loose! 
'Tis  the  way — 'tis  the  way — of  the  world! 


MY  SHADOW  AND  I. 

A  SOMETHING,  not  of  earth  or  sky, 
Beside  me  walks  the  ways  I  go, 
And  I — I  never  truly  know, 
If  I  am  it  or  it  is  I. 

It  soothes  me  with  its  tender  speech, 
It  guides  me  with  its  gentle  hand, 
But  I — I  can  not  understand 

The  links  that  bind  us  each  to  each. 

I  hear  the  songs  of  golden  days 
Fall  softly  on  the  saddened  years, 
But  know  not  whose  the  hungry  ears 

First  feasted  on  the  roundelays. 

I  feel  the  hopes,  the  yearnings  brave, 
Within  my  bosom  surge  and  roll, 
But  know  not  whose  the  Master  Soul 

That  called  their  glories  from  the  grave. 


In  the    Vales.  91 

I  see  the  great  world's  greater  curse, 
Dark  struggles  on  through  darker  days, 
But  know  not  whose  the  eyes  that  gaze 

Through  all  the  sobbing  universe. 

O,  Shadow  mine!     Beneath  my  brow 
I  feel  thy  thoughts,  and  in  my  heart 
Thy  fondest  longings  madly  start! 

Thou  art  myself  and  I  am  thou! 


IN  THE  VALES. 

WHEN  from  these  vales  I  go, 
That  slumber  on  in  dreams, 
O,  will  the  summer  winds  dance  to  and  fro, 
And  kiss  the  streams 

That  play  where  roses  scatter  fond  perfume 
And  lilies  burst  with  bloom  ? 

Glad  children  of  the  spring, 

They  moan  their  music  sweet 
Where  tangled  grasses  wave,  and  softly  sing 

Where  meadows  meet, 
And  wildwood  shadows  drooping  bless 
The  groves  with  happiness. 


92  Oklahoma. 

Their  soothing  songs  I  hear 

Among  the  granite  hills, 
Above  the  elfin  warbles  rich  and  clear 

From  rippling  rills, 

As  if  they  called  my  soul  in  future  days 
To  wander  all  their  ways. 

Ah,  moaning  winds,  you  seem 

To  fill  my  musing  breast 
With  lullabies  that  linger  as  I  dream 

And  bring  me  rest; 

For  melodies  from  your  low  voices  creep 
That  soothe  my  heart  with  sleep! 


THE  WILLOW. 

A  SONG  for  the  willow,  the  wild  weeping  willow, 
That  murmurs  a  dirge  to  the  rapturous  days, 
And  moans  when  the  kiss  of  the  breeze  laden 

billow 

Entangles  and  dangles  among  the  sad  sprays! 
A  musical  ditty  to  scatter  the  sadness, 

A  warble  of  wildness  to  banish  its  tears, 
Till  tremulous  measures  of  bountiful  gladne* 
Be    sounding  and    bounding  through  all  of    the 
years. 


The    Willow.  93 

The  beautiful  brooks,as  they  waken  from  slumbers, 
Pause    under    the    shadows    that    fall    from    the 

boughs, 

And  weave  their  caresses  in  passionate  numbers, 
While  soothing  and  smoothing  the  frowns  from 

its  brows; 
But  chained  in  the  desolate  sorrows  of  weeping 

Its  heart  never  warms  to  the  raptures  of  mirth, 
And  over  its  bosom  no  pleasures  are  creeping 
While  wending  and  blending  their  joys  with  the 
earth. 

Then  sing  for  the  willow,  the  wild  weeping  willow, 

That  droops  in  the  smiles  of  the  summer-born 

times, 
And  mourns  in  the  kiss  of  the  sweet-scented  billow, 

When  beaming  and  gleaming  are  dripping  \\ith 

chimes! 
While  melodies  move  where  their  happiness  lingers, 

They  surely  will  gladden  the  tear-laden  sprays, 
And  music  that  flutters  from  fairy-like  ringers 

Will  lighten  and  brighten  the  burdensome  days. 


94  Oklahoma. 


AT  THE  MILL. 

THE  water-wheel  goes  'round  and  'round 
With  heavy  sighs  of  mournful  sound, 
While  dismal  cries  and  weary  moans 
Unite  with  sad  and  tearful  groans, 
And  weeping  waves  of  water  throw 
Afar  the  echoes  of  their  sadness, 
And  cadences  of  plaintive  woe 

Dispel  each  little  note  of  gladness. 

My  daily  life  goes  'round  and  'round, 
And  rest  for  me  is  never  found; 
The  sobbing  dirges  of  distress 
Are  more  than  songs  of  happiness; 
The  shadows  of  despairing  doom 

Condemn  to-day  and  curse  to-morrow, 
And  muffled  terrors  fill  the  gloom 

Which  offers  anguish  to  my  sorrow. 

But  hope,  O,  heart,  for  future  weal! 
The  waters  rest  beyond  the  wheel; 
So  life  may  sing  when  toil  is  done 
And  all  its  battles  lost  or  won. 
There  lives  a  sweeter  music  there, 

Of  gentle  and  melodious  measure, 
Where  weeping  never  comes  and  where 

The  ages  perish  into  pleasure. 


Shadow  and  Shine.  95 


SHADOW  AND  SHINE. 

ATVHEY  will  find  in  this  life  who  are  grieved  with 
X      its  gladness 

No  songs  for  the  heart  and  no  hopes  for  the  soul. 
But  will  faint  in  the  glooms    where  the  dirges  of 

sadness 

In  tremulous  murmurs  of  wretchedness  roll ; 
For  the  sweets  of  this  earth  never  lavish  their  kisses 

Where  lives  in  the  valleys  of  rapture  repine  ; 
In  the  tortures  they  mourn  who  denounce  all  the 

blisses, — 
They  weep  in  the  shadow  that  rail  at  the  shine. 

In  the  fields  that  are  fair  with  the  blooms  of  the 

clover, 

No  garlands  are  grown  for  the  arbors  of  shade 
Where  the  woes  of  the  wood  in  their  darkness  hang 

over 
The   grasses   that   wave   with    the   winds  of  the 

glade  ; 
From   the   chimes    of    the    breezes    there   echo  no 

measures 

That  gladden  the  gale  with  a  music  divine  ; 
In  the  troubles  they  languish  who  shrink  from  the 

pleasures, 
They  weep  in  the  shadow  that  rail  at  the  shine. 


96  Oklahoma. 

Ah,  the  world  is  abounding  with  wonderful  glories 

And  wild  are  the  warbles  that  sweeten  its  ways 

While   the   songs  of  the   land   sing  their  beautiful 

stories, 

And  scatter  their  melodies  over  the  days  ! 
There  are  smiles,  there  are  joys,  never  mingled  with 

sorrow, 

O,  man,  in  return  for  the  tears  that  are  thine, 
And  the  soul  never   sobs  that   has   hopes   for  the 

morrow, 
Nor  weeps  in  the  shadow  nor  rails  at  the  shine  ! 


THE  GROWTH  OF  SONG. 

1  TENDER  song  in  shadows  grew, 

And  humble  hearts  were  homes  it  knew. 


But  through  its  wondrous  music  stole 
The  longings  of  the  human  soul  ; 

The  hopes  of  hosts  unsatisfied 
Within  its  numbers  wandered  wide  ; 

And  strangely  wet  with  toilsome  tears 
It  held  the  yearnings  of  the  years  ; 

Till  millions  with  their  woes  oppressed, 
Proclaimed  the  song  of  peace  and  rest  ; 


Spring  and  Music.  97 

Till  nations  in  their  troubled  ways 
Found  comfort  in  the  joyous  lays, 

And  all  the  halting  race  of  wrong 
Exalts  the  loving  might  of  song  ! 

Ah,  song  that  soothes  our  many  cries 
With  fondness  of  thy  lullabies, 

We  love,  we  bless,  we  scepter  thee 
Proud  empress  of  the  hearts  that  be  ! 


SPRING  AND  MUSIC. 

SPRING,  among  her  sylvan  shades, 
And  the  gladness  of  her  glades, 

Once  in  dreamy  hours  was  straying, 
Where  sweet  Music  with  her  throngs 
Of  glad  melodies  and  songs 

In  the  happy  vales  was  playing. 

Pan  beheld  the  fairy  maids 

As  they  gamboled  in  the  shades, 

And  he  swore  they  should  not  sever, 
But  that  o'er  the  blooming  land, 
Heart  to  heart  and  hand  in  hand, 

They  should  wander  on  forever. 


98  Oklahoma. 

Thus  when  come  the  gentle  days 
O'er  the  wildwood's  tangled  ways, 

There  is  found  no  gloomy  weather  ; 
For  among  the  leafy  bowers 
And  the  valleys  bright  with  flowers 

Spring  and  Music  walk  together  ! 


COMPENSATION. 

THE  softest  beams  of  the  stars  are  born  in  the 
farthest  skies, 
And   fairest   rays    of   the    sun    where    evening 

shadows  rise  ; 
The   sweetest   songs  of   the   bird   are   sung  in  the 

darkest  days, 

And  rarest  blooms  of  the  spring  are  found  in  the 
wildest  ways. 

The  brightest   blush   of  the   rose   is  blown   as  the 

petals  fade. 
The  greenest  grass   of   the  earth   is  grown   in  the 

hidden  glade  ; 
The  fondest  rhyme  of  the  rill  is  heard  in  the  secret 

vale, 
And  lightest  lays  of  the  breeze  are  borne  from  the 

dying  gale. 


Compensation.  99 

The  highest  hopes  of  the  heart  in  saddest  of  sorrows 
grow, 

The   purest   pleasures  of  joy  arise  in  the  wane  of 

woe  ; 
The  gladdest  smiles  of  the  lips  are  seen  in  the  hours 

of  pain, 
And   proudest   days   of   the   free   are   spent  by  the 

broken  chain. 

The  grandest   deeds   of  the   race   are  writ  on   the 

faded  scroll, 
The  truest  rivers  of  good  from  villainous  fountains 

roll; 
The  perfect  raptures  of  life  are  reared  in  the  arms 

of  care, 
And  Hope  with  her  joys  dispels  the  darkness  of  our 

despair. 


ioo  Oklahoma. 


MY  MOLLIE,  O! 

)ATAWAS  in  the  summer's  sweet  perfume, 
X       When  roses  bloomed  and  holly,  O, 
That  in  the  brightness  of  her  bloom, 
I  first  did  meet  my  Mollie,  O. 

Although  she  said  for  lives  to  love 
Was  nothing  but  pure  folly,  O, 

My  heart  was  lit  with  light  above, 
And  I  true  loved  my  Mollie,  O. 

O,  swift  and  fast  the  days  did  flee 
And  seemed  most  bright  and  jolly,  O, 

For  evermore  was  near  to  me 
My  fair  and  lovely  Mollie,  O. 

Now  I  doth  sit  through  all  the  day 
And  nurse  my  melancholy,  O, 

For  from  me  she  has  turned  away, 
O,  false  and  fickle  Mollie,  O  ! 


Sing  not  for  Beauty.  101 


SING  NOT  OF  BEAUTY. 

SING  not  of  beauty's  grace  to  me  ; 
Its  very  name  a  story  tells 
Of  doubly  dark  inconstancy, 

Love  falser  than  a  hundred  hells. 

Its  face  is  often  but  a  screen 
To  hide  a  devil's  heart  of  guile, 

Of  thoughts  and  deeds  of  shameful  mien, 
By  winning  looks  of  heartless  wile. 

Its  laughing  smile  is  but  the  gleam 

That  springs  from  dross  of  foulest  make  ; 

It  stirs  a  sweet  but  idle  dream, 

Then  leaves  the  trusting  heart  to  break. 

Sing  not  of  beauty's  grace  to  me  ; 

I  can  not  bear  to  hear  the  name  ; 
For,  oh  !  Too  oft  in  it  I  see 

A  soul  of  falsehood  and  of  shame  ! 


JO2  Oklahoma, 


AT    EVENTIDE. 

AT  eventide,  when  glories  lie 
In  crimson  curtains  hung  on  high, 
And  all  the  breast  of  heaven  glows 
With  mingled  wreaths  of  flowers  and  snows, 
The  dearest  dreams  of  life  draw  nigh. 

The  pleasures  in  their  soft  robes  fly 
With  angel  wings  adown  the  sky, 
And  rapture  lulls  to  sweet  repose, 
At  eventide. 

Ah,  well-a-day  !     Life's  weary  cry, 
And  all  its  curse  and  care  shall  die, 
When  Age  on  downy  couches  throws 
His  weary  limbs  and  only  knows 
The  tender  dreams  of  bye-and-bye, 
At  eventide  ! 


When  Christmas  Comes.  103 


WHEN  CHRISTMAS  COMES. 

WHEN  Christmas  comes,  what  pleasures 
spring 

From  drooping  hearts  on  happy  wing, 
Like  joyous  birds  that  soaring  rise 
From  hidden  coverts  to  the  skies, 
And  echo  in  the  chimes  that  ring  ! 

Glad  millions  in  wild  rapture  sing 
Hosannaed  hopes  of  welcoming, 
While  praises  blend  in  harmonies, 
When  Christmas  comes. 

Ah,  happy  hours  !     Around  them  cling 
The  dearest  joys  that  life  may  bring, 
And  all  the  world's  despairing  cries 
Are  soothed  to  sleep  with  lullabies 
That  banish  every  bitter  thing, 
When  Christmas  comes  ! 


104  Oklahoma, 


WHEN  THOU  ART  NEAR. 

WHEN  thou  art  near,  with  gladdest  grace 
My  heart  is  held  in  fond  embrace, 
For  laughing  lips  with  raptures  bless 
The  toils  and  tears  of  my  distress, 
And  woes  within  me  have  no  place. 

The  halting  hours  with  hurried  pace 
Whirl  wildly  on  through  happy  space, 
And  life  is  light  with  happiness, 
When  thou  art  near. 

Like  mortals  whom  an  angel  race 
Renews  with  gladness  face  to  face, 
I  thrill  with  Love's  unseen  caress 
That  holy  hands  upon  me  press, 
And  Heaven's  pleasures  all  I  trace, 
When  thou  art  near. 


He  Sleeps  At  Last.  105 


HE  SLEEPS  AT  LAST. 

HE  sleeps  at  last!     The  vales  of  rest 
Are  waiting  for  the  war-worn  breast, 
And  glorious  angels  fondly  spread 
The  sweetest  roses  for  his  bed. 
While  countless  millions  call  him  blest. 

Fame  welcomes  him  with  glad  behest, 
While  garlands  on  his  brow  are  pressed, 
And  laurels  cluster  o'er  his  head; 
He  sleeps  at  last. 

O,  deep  the  sorrows  here  confessed, 
Where  Freedom  makes  eternal  quest! 
The  wondrous  chief  that  proudly  led 
The  long,  blue  lines  that  fought  and  bled, 
In  peace  is  now  no  more  distressed; 
He  sleeps  at  last! 


io6  Oklahoma. 


WHEN  FORTUNES  FROWN. 

WHEN  fortunes  frown,  the  woes,  bedight 
With  brooding  shadows,  bring  the  night, 
While  dismal  sorrows  darkness  dole, 
And  disappointments  rise  and  roll 
Above  the  longings  for  the  light. 

Despair,  with  hands  that  curse  and  blight, 
Sows  weakness  in  the  hearts  of  might 
Until  they  falter  near  the  goal, 
When  fortunes  frown. 

But  onward  still!     The  valleys  white 
With  Heaven's  blossoms  are  in  sight; 

The  Holy  Mountains,  knoll  on  knoll, 

Are  waiting  for  the  Master  Soul, 
And  he  shall  conquer  for  the  right, 
When  fortunes  frown! 


When    We  Shall  Meet.  107 


WHEN  WE  SHALL  MEET. 

WHEN  we  shall  meet,  I  strangely  know 
The  mad  emotions  that  shall  flow 
Across  my  heart  all  quivering, 
Beneath  the  raptures  he  shall  bring 
From  angel  years  that  gladdened  so. 

And  I  all  shy  and  silent  grow 
Beneath  his  glance  of  gladness,  though 
Wild  yearnings  through  my  bosom  spring, 
When  we  shall  meet. 

Till  joyful  tears  of  passion  show, 

And  to  his  kind  embrace  I  throw 
My  heart  unworthy,  and  I  cling 
With  deathless  fondness  to  the  king 

I  worshipped  in  the  Long  Ago, 
When  we  shall  meet! 


io8  Oklahoma. 


SWEET  EYES  OF  BLUE. 

SWEET  eyes  of  blue!     The  stars  by  night, 
That  swoon  the  world  with  laughing  light, 
And  touch  the  hills  with  tender  glow 
While  all  the  vales  are  kissed  below, 
Beside  you  would  no  more  be  bright. 

My  worlds  ye  are,  and  while  I  throw 
My  heart  to  catch  the  beams  that  flow 

From  your  fair  shrine,  my  woes  take  flight, 
Sweet  eyes  of  blue! 

Glad  orbs  of  beauty!     In  your  sight 
My  soul  mounts  up  with  secret  might, 

Till  Eden's  lovely  bowers  I  know; 

And  as  through  Heaven's  gates  I  go, 
The  pleasures  all  my  sorrow  smite, 
Sweet  eyes  of  blue! 


Had   We  Not  Met.  109 


HAD  WE  NOT  MET. 

HAD  we  not  met,  the  brooding  woe 
And  all  the  griefs  that  greater  grow, 
Might  not  have  been,  and  happy-wise 
Our  lives  have  laughed  with  lullabies 
And  quaffed  such  joys  as  few  may  know. 

Our  days  beneath  embittered  skies 
Where  anguish  moans  and  sorrow  cries, 
Might  not  have  wept  and  wandered  so, 
Had  we  not  met! 

But  ah,  my  darling!     All  we  prize, — 
Love  and  sweet  trust  that  never  dies, 
Wild  yearnings  that  with  constant  flow 
From  kindred  heart  to  bosom  go, — 
Would  never  in  our  souls  had  rise, 
Had  we  not  met! 


tio  Oklahoma. 


A  SONNET. 

WE  gentler  grow  by  sorrow;  not  the  breast 
That  never  crouches  in  the  nights  of  tears, 
That  never  bends  beneath  the  loads  of  years, 
Has  sympathies  that  are  the  kindliest. 
There  is  a  strength  in  agony  that  best 

Can  link  the  careless  heart  with  human  fears, 
And  teach  it  that  fond  kindness  which  endears 
The  millions  that  with  sadness  are  oppressed. 

Grief  softens  while  it  saddens;  pleasure  smites 
The  timid  soul  with  harshness,  till  it  knows 
Small  earnest  of  the  great  world's  grievous  woes 
And  little  of  its  struggles;  sorrow  plights 
Her  troth  with  sorrow,  and  in  tears  unites 
Man  unto  man  and  hatred  overthrows. 


Oklahoma,— A  Sonnet.  ill 


OKLAHOMA,—  A  SONNET. 

HERE,  through  the  ages  old,  the  desert  slept 
In  solitudes  unbroken,  save  when  passed 
The  bison  herds,  and  savage  hunters  swept 
In  thund'ring  chaos  down  the  valleys  vast; 
But,  lo!     Across  the  barren  margins  stepped 
Advancement  with  her  legions,  and  one  blast 
From  her  imperial  trumpet  filled  the  last 
Lone  covert  where  affrighted  wildness  crept. 

Full  armed,  full  armored,  at  her  wondrous  birth, 
Her    shining    temples    wreathed    with    gorgeous 
dower, 

She  sits  among  the  empires  of  the  earth; 

Her  proud  achievements  o'er  the  nations  tower, 

Won  by  her  people  with  their  royal  worth, 

With  lofty  culture,  wisdom,  wealth  and  power. 


1 1 2  Oklahoma. 


ESTRANGED 

ATAHOUGH  far  apart,  my  darling,  side  by  side 
X       We  wander  still  and  our  fond  yearnings  meet, 
As  when  our  hearts  with  highest  raptures  beat 
Before  our  footsteps  trod  the  paths  of  pride; 
Our  close  companionship  hath  never  died; 

True  love  and  trust  are  always  fair  and  sweet, 
And  time  from  life's  best  hopes  can  never  hide 

A  kindred  soul  that  made  its  own  complete! 
So  thou,  dear  one,  shall  come  once  more  to  me, 

The  sweeter  grown  for  all  thy  years  of  pain; 
My  longing  arms  shall  open  wide  for  thee, 

And  thou  shalt  nestle  on  my  breast  again; 
Then  perfect  love  shall  richly  crown  the  years, 
And  both  be  better  for  our  griefs  and  tears. 


Reconciled.  113 


RECONCILED. 

meet  again  beyond  the  barren  past, 
Beyond  the  pride,  the  sorrows  and  the  tears; 
And  yearnings  leave  the  strife  and  hate  of 
years 

To  flood  our  souls  with  perfect  peace  at  last! 
Our  hearts  forget  the  wrong  so  deep  and  vast, 
The  wounding  words  and  all  the  cruel  woe, 
Till  joy  is  all  our  bounding  bosoms  know, 
And  life  is  glad  with  happiness  at  last. 

Love,  deathless  and  forgiving,  crowns  with  bays 
The  future  and  our  hopes,  as  full  of  grace, 

As  youth  had  fondly  dreamed  in  other  days, 

When  first  we  knew  how  sweet  was  her  embrace. 

God's  endless  purpose  guides  the  feet  of  men; 

Beyond  our  pride  we  meet  in  love  again! 


114  Oklahoma. 


THE  DYING  HERO. 

HIS  greatness  hath  not  left  him;  till  the  years 
Have  won  the  nation  from  her  children  dead, 
And  robbed  her  of  remembrance  where  she 
rears 

Her  monuments  above  the  blood  they  shed, 
Will  his  name  want  for  homage;  with  sad  fears 
The  Union  winds  her  garlands  o'er  his  head, 
And  fondly  wreathes  her  love,  bedewed  with  tears, 
To  bless  the  hero  on  his  dying  bed. 

His  luster  lives  untarnished;  as  he  lies 

Where  Malady  has  bound  him  in  wild  pain, 

And  only  Death  can  loose  the  heavy  chain 
That  galls  her  captive  while  his  nature  dies, 

He  seems  far  greater  in  his  country's  eyes, 
Than  if  an  Appomattox  spake  again. 


Sonnet.  H5 


SONNET. 

SOMEHOW,  someway,  I  can  not  see  the  light; 
The  giant  hills  of  doubting  reach  the  skies, 
Abiding  shadows  bring  eternal  night, 
And  on  my  ways  no  suns  of  morning  rise; 
Dark  mysteries  across  the  years  of  might 

Crush  down  my  hopes,   until  each  yearning  dies, 
Until  my  soul  is  weary,  dim  my  sight, 

And  ghosily  echoes  mock  my  fainting  cries. 

Ah,  I  shall  know  beyond  these  narrow  years, 
The  glorious  mornings  of  eternal  day, 
Where  perfect  love  and  tender  trust  shall  play, 
And  smiles  and  laughter  banish  all  the  tears, 
And  all  the  heavy  mists  of  doubts  and  fears 

Shall  leave  my  longing  soul  somehow,  someway  ! 


u6  Oklahoma. 


GREATNESS  LIVES  APART. 

GREAT  natures  live  apart  ;  the  mountain  gray 
May  call  no  comrade  to  his  lonely  side; 
The  giant  ocean,   wrapped  in  storm  and  spray, 
Has  no  companion  for  her  endless  tide  ; 
The  forest  monarch,  where  his  parents  died, 
Can  find  no  brother  in  his  lofty  sway, 

And  mighty  rivers  chafe  their  margins  wide 
Where  infant  rills  and  childish  fountains  play. 

So  heroes  live  ;  no  raptured  blossoms  start 
Where  rugged  heights  of  human  glory  end  ; 
No  tender  songs  of  loving  beauty  blend 

Their  chorus  in  the  great  man's  peerless  heart  ; 

Fate  fills  their  souls  with  magnitude,  and  art 
Supplies  their  lives  with  no  congenial  friend. 


Poems.  117 


POEMS. 

T^OEMS  are  holy  things.     Eternal  Truth, 

J[       Borrowing  the  robes  of  song  and  lovely  grown, 

In  them  her  glory  unto  man  proclaims 
And  fills  his  longing  soul.     They  softly  speak 
Of  Nature's  beauty  and  the  secrets  old 
Concealed  behind  the  shadows  of  the  hills, 
And  love  on  angel  fingers  borne  to  men, 
Naming  them  over  in  so  sweet  a  voice 
That  music  leads  their  footsteps  in  the  ways 
Where  God  has  walked  ;  and  with  a  lofty  Harp, 
As  wondrous  as  the  gentle  harps  of  heaven, 
Uplifts,  ennobles,  soothes  and  leads  the  race 
Unto  its  last  great  ultimate  of  power, 
To  words  of  tenderness  and  goodly  deeds. 


1 1 8  Oklahoma. 


SINGER  AND  SONG. 

\    SINGER  sang  in  sorrow  long 

And  breathed  his  life  into  his  song. 


Unknown,  unheard,  the  song  went  wide, 
Until  the  singer,  starving,  died. 

Now  in  their  hearts  the  nations  write 
And  wear  the  singer's  song  of  might. 

Ah,  singers  fail  and  fall  from  view, 
But  songs  are  always,  always  new  ! 

If  garlands  none  to  singers  cling, 

Bays  wreathe  above  the  songs  they  sing. 


The  Banks  o'    Turkey  Run.  119 


TO   ONE    WHO    PLEDGED    HER  FRIEND 
SHIP. 


this  false  world   we  may  count  our- 
selves  blest, 
If  we  have  but  one  friend  who  is  faithful  and 

true  ; 
And  so  in  your  friendship  contented  I'll  rest, 

And  believe  I  have  found  that  one  blessing  in  you. 


THE  BANKS  O'  TURKEY  RUN. 

IKE  a  thousan'  birds  o'  brightness  from  the  isles 

o'  summer  seas, 
Rickollections,  full    o'  gladness,  come  with  scngs 

and  lullabies, 
An'  I  listen  to  the  carols  that  with  gentle  voices 

roll, 
Full  o'  tenderness  an'  beauty,  down  upon  my  weary 

soul, 
Ferthar'sone  thet  keeps  a-singin' with  a  songthet's 

never  done, 

An'  I  see  the  bendin'  willers  on  the  banks  o'  Turkey 
Run. 


1 20  Oklahoma. 

An'  agin'  I  be  a  youngster  with  a  youngster's  foolin' 

dreams, 
With  his  high-falutin'  notions  an'  his  fiddle-faddle 

schemes  ; 
With  the  laughin'  an'  the  cryin',  with  the  sorrow  an' 

the  joy, 
Thet  is  jumbled  up  together  in  the  bosom  o'  the 

boy; 

An'  agin  my  arly  fancies  in  a  fairy  loom  are  spun 
Underneath  the  dancin'  shadders  on  the  banks  o' 

Turkey  Run. 

An'  agin  I  be  a  school-boy  with  the  other  merry 

lads, 

When  Joe  an'  Jerry,  Bill  an'  I,  wus  only  little  tads, 
When  a  half  a  dozen  marvels  an'  a  kivered  ball  was 

worth — 
With  a  knife  o'  Barlow  pattern — all  the  treasures  o' 

the  earth  ; 
An'  the   soundin'    sort  o'  thunder   from  a  poppin' 

kind  o'  gun 
Set  our  faces  all  a-giggle  on  the  banks  o'  Turkey 

Run. 

It   'ud   tickle    any    feller   but  ter   see    the    solemn 

look, 
When  the  master  was  a-watchin',  thet  we  fastened 

on  the  book, 


The  Banks  o'    Turkey  Run.  121 

But  the  mischief  stickin'  in  us,  like  pertaters  in  a 

sack, 
It   wus  never    hard    ter   empty   when    the   teacher 

turned  his  back  ; 
O,  the  paper  wads  we  tumbled  thet  'ud  weigh  about 

a  ton, 
In  thet  crazy-cornered  school-house  on  the  banks  o' 

Turkey  Run  ! 

How  we  used  ter  chase  the  robins  an'  the  rabbits 

in  the  wood, 
How  we  gethered  bloomin'    posies  in  the  sighin' 

solitude  ! 
How  we  wundered  all  the  medders  in  our  roamin's 

o'er  an'  o'er, 
How  we  teetered  in  the  branches  o'  the  beech  an' 

sycamore  ! 
Or   we    watched    the    rompin'    minners    as    they 

rasseled  in  their  fun, 
While  we  nearly  bust  a-laughin',  on  the  banks  o' 

Turkey  Run  ! 

How  we  used  ter  go  a-fishin'  when  the  day  wus 

gittin'  late, 
With  a  little  line  o'  cotton  an'  a  fish-worm  fer  a 

bait ! 
With  a  bent  pin  for  a  fish-hook  an'  a  hazel  fer  a 

pole, 
How  we  sought  the  softest  places  by  the  widest, 

deepest  hole  ! 


122  Oklahoma. 

How  we  teehee-eed  at  the  nibbles,  caught  the  fishes 

one  by  one, 
With  the  biggest  kind  o'  prowess,  on  the  banks  o' 

Turkey  Run  ! 

When  the  sun  was  burnin'  shavin's  in  the  heatin' 

stove  o'  June, 
An'  the  clock  upon  the  mantle  wus  a-knockin'  off 

the  noon  ; 
When  the  beams  in  bunches  blistered  as  they  never 

did  afore, 
An'    the    sweat    was    drippin',    droppin',   from   the 

mouth  o'  every  pore, 
How    we    skipped    across    the    medder,    how    our 

swimmin'  wus  begun, 
In  the  cool  an'  crystal  waters  'tween  the  banks  o' 

Turkey  Run  ! 

O,   the   smilin'  days   o'   childhood  !     O,  the  loudly 

laughin'  years  ! 
When    contentment    brings    the    moments    neither 

heaviness  ner  tears  ! 
When  the  pleasures  jine  the  longin's  an'  the  fairy 

fingers  roll 
All  the   heaps  o'  angel  music  in  upon  the  blazin' 

soul  ! 
O,  my  Joe  an'  Bill  an'  Jerry  !     Trustin'  comrades, 

you  wus  won 
Whar  my  bare  feet  brushed  the  grasses  on  the  banks 

o'  Turkey  Run  ! 


The  Banks  <?'    Turkey  Run.  123 

But,  alas  !  Thar  wus  another  ;  she  was  fairer  than 

the  rest, 
An'  she  allus  had  a  hearin'  fer  the  wishes  o'  my 

breast  ; 
Allus  wus  a  chunk  o'  sunshine  an'  a  piece  o'  quiet 

glee, 
Allus  had  a  smile  o'  welcome  an'  a  tender  word 

fer  me  ; 
An'  without  her  wus  no  shinin'  an' o' happiness  wus 

none 
Ter  bring  gladness  ter  my  bosom  on  the  banks  o' 

Turkey  Run. 

O,  her  home  wus  in  a  cottage  whar  the  mornin'- 

glories  hung, 
An'  the  arly  birds  o'  April  with  their  sweetest  music 

sung  ; 
Thar  wus  roses  'round  her  winder,  thar  wus  roses 

'round  her  door, 
Thet   wus   stickin'   full   o'  blushes,   but   they  allus 

blushed  the  more. 
When  her  eyes  wus  seen  a-peepin'  an'  her  cheeks 

beamed  like  the  sun, 
From    thet    cosy    little    cottage    on    the    banks    o' 

Turkey  Run  ! 

Many  an'  many  a  time  we  wundered  in  the  grassy 

medder-land 
With   our   wishes    right    together    an'   our  longin's 

hand  in  hand  ; 


1 24  Oklahoma. 

How  we  dreamed  about  the  future  when  the  world 

should  give  me  fame, 
An'  when  she  would  be  thrice  noble  to  be  worthy  o' 

my  name  ! 
Thus  we  talked  an'  thus  we  fancied  ;  others  might 

my  boyhood  shun, 
But  I  found  her  kind,  my  sweetheart,  on  the  banks 

o'  Turkey  Run. 

But  the  times  have  been  a-changin'  sence  them  arly 

years  o'  joy, 

When  she  wus  but  a  little  girl  an'  I.  a  little  boy  ; 
When  Joe  an'  Jerry,  Bill  an'  I,  together  wus  at  play, 
With  our  hearts  as  light  as  feathers,  every  minute 

of  the  day, 
An'  at  twilight  sunk  ter  slumber  tell  the  mornin' 

wus  begun, 
In  the  gloomy  silent  forests  on  the  banks  o'  Turkey 

Run. 


Bill  an'  Joe  have  gone  a-rovin'  on  a  fortune-huntin' 
quest 

Through  the  silver  mines  an'  Injuns  in  the  moun 
tains  o'  the  west  ; 

But  the  janders  came  ter  Jerry  with  a  solemn  sort 
o'  call 

Tell  they  painted  him  as  yaller  as  a  punkin  in  the 
fall  ; 


The  Banks  oy    Turkey  Run.  125 

An'  to-day  I  saw  his  tombstone  as  it  glittered  in  the 

sun, 
Over  in   the  little  churchyard,   on  the    banks    o' 

Turkey  Run  ! 

An'  alas,    my   precious  sweetheart  !      Like  a  lily, 

virgin  white, 
Did  she  slowly  fade  an'  wither  tell  her  spirit  took 

its  flight  ! 
Like  an  angel  into  heaven  did  she  sweetly,  calmly 

creep, 
An'  her  lovely  life  wus  over  an'  her  bosom  went  ter 

sleep  ; 
An'  the  tollin',  tollin'  church-bells  dropt  the  dirges 

one  by  one, 
As  we  laid  her  'neath  the  wilier  on  the  banks  o' 

Turkey  Run. 

Thar  a  little  cross  o'  marble  marks  the  sacred, 
silent  shade, 

Whar  the  fair  an'  laughin'  beauty  o'  my  ole  sweet 
heart  wus  laid  ; 

An'  the  summer  has  a  sadness  thet  is  cryin'  through 
the  years, 

An'  my  heart  is  full  o'  sorrow,  an'  mine  eyes  is  full 
o'  tears, 

Fer  I've  allus  had  a  failin',  sence  her  friendship  first 
I  won, 

Fer  thet  little  lovin'  maiden  on  the  banks  o' 
Turkey  Run  ! 


1 26  Oklahoma. 

But  them   days   have   past   forever  in   the  years  o' 

long  ago, 
An'  a  wishin'  ter  be  wealthy  has  enraptured  Bill  an' 

Joe; 

Death  has  taken  Jerry  ;  only  I,  o'  all  the  boys, 
Am'   remainin'  ter   remember  all   them  arly  angel 

joys; 
But  to-night  I  see  their  faces  as  they  peep  in  full  o' 

fun, 
An'   agin    we're    boys    together,    on    the    banks    o' 

Turkey  Run  ! 


ENVOY. 

Oh,  to  be  able  to  capture  and  bring 
And  bind  in  the  bonds  of  control, 

Some  of  the  carols  that  warble  and  sing 
Down  in  the  depths  of  my  soul. 


UHIVBRSITT 


cr> 


